Heroes and Thieves
by MagicWords1
Summary: A sequel to Thief's War. When Fisk is captured and tortured because of his past association with Jack Bannister, Michael receives an urgent letter from his sister Kathy, who senses Fisk is in grave peril. Now, Michael must choose whether to fulfill his duties as a noble knight errant, or turn his back on his old squire. Co-written by authors Irony'sFriend and MagicWords1. COMPLETE!
1. Fisk

_Contains spoilers from Thief's War by Hilari Bell!_

_A/N: Hi readers! This is a Knight and Rogue fic written by both myself and a fellow writer named Irony'sFriend (who also has a profile on this site-check her out through my favorites link). She has written the chapters in Fisk's pov, and I have written the chapters in Michael's. Basically, this is the sequel to the heartbreaking fourth book, Thief's War. Our goal is to fix the ending our way by writing how we would reunite Michael and Fisk. Feel free to leave reviews! We appreciate them! -MagicWords1 and Irony'sFriend_

**Heroes and Thieves**

**Chapter One: Fisk**

As I walked home from my shift at the tavern, I could tell that they were following me again. I didn't have Gifts like _he_ did, but I'd been working the streets long enough to sense when something was out of place. I noticed that the same faces who watched me apply to the local tavern as a bartender were the same faces who moved into the room next to mine at a cheap but clean inn. I was actually packed and ready to leave tomorrow, but I apparently overestimated their need to plan.

I also overestimated their need for subtlety. I kept to lit streets and main roads, but even with this precaution, three large men cut off my path ahead, and at least three more closed in on me from behind. I looked around for any bystanders that might run for the sheriff, but I couldn't see a soul despite this street being filled with popular shops. I should have learned from the Rose how easily people would turn a blind eye to cruelty if it meant saving their own skin.

Thankful that I always kept a few golden coins hidden in folds of my clothing, I held out my purse. For the first time in my life, the bag weighed somewhat heavy, and I was bitter to give it up, but I wasn't a moron. I couldn't take on six men by myself. Besides, thieves that went to such drastic measures were not worth fighting.

Unfortunately, these supposed thieves didn't even react to my proffered coins. They stalked closer, and I could detect the outlines of weapons even in the rapidly diminishing light. My mind raced as I calculated how long I could run if I incapacitated one or two, but no matter what scenario I imagined, they all ended in my capture. I held up my hands in surrender, for better to be smart and remain in good physical shape than to destroy a later chance of escape in a pointless battle.

I watched as they came closer and tried to ignore the way my heartbeat escalated to erratic thumping. One raised his arm and hit my head with the hilt of a sword, and I fell into another's waiting arms. My purse dropped to the ground as I lost consciousness.

…

When I woke up, my wrists were chained to the wall above my head, and every joint in my body ached in protest against the position. I tried to shift my legs, so I could sit up better, but each movement only made the pain worse. Giving up on any sort of comfort, I examined my surroundings.

The floor was made of packed dirt and the walls of roughly-cut stone. Only a single lantern on a wooden crate offered any sort of illumination, and the limited circle of light revealed little. I could assume that I was underground based on the dampness in the air, but past that, I knew nothing. I didn't know how long I had been unconscious, so I couldn't even say what town I was in.

_What do you know, Michael? I didn't end up hanged. I bet you never would have expected this_, I thought wryly, somewhat hysterically to be honest.

The fear I didn't have time to feel on the night they captured me reared its head in triple the force. My breathing came out in shallow pants, and my heart beat harder than ever. It seemed a bit unfair.

Ever since I parted ways with Michael, I stayed straight. No cons, no burglary. I only sharped cards to pass the time. His wayward nobility hadn't rubbed off on me or anything; _that_ I could promise. Mostly, I just didn't have to anymore since I still had my half of the reward for bringing down the Rose. I only tended the bars for something to do, and the cheap inn was a habit.

So why would something like this happen now of all times?

As if to answer my question, a door opened from across the room, and a wave of light flooded in. My eyes squinted at the unexpected assault, so I couldn't get a glimpse of anything before the door shut, and I was thrust into darkness once again. Heavy footsteps thumped across the dirt until an unnaturally tall man with white, skeletal fingers stepped into the glow of the lantern.

"Nonopherian Fisk, I presume?" he asked in a snobby voice. I immediately recognized a noble's accent.

Jack always said to go along with a situation until you could turn it to benefit you. His advice had never lead me wrong before, so I nodded hesitantly.

"Ah, thank the gods," the noble sighed in relief. "I hoped those brutes would prove capable, and while they lack certain finesse, they are good at what they do, I suppose."

"What do you want from me?" It was a fair question. I had never met this man before, and I could think of no reason for him to go to such measure to obtain me.

He looked surprised, but he quickly recovered by smoothing over his features. He adjusted his doublet, a fine black one threaded with silver. "Pardon my lapse of manners. I am Master Pierce, and I seek the location of a friend of yours."

I immediately thought of Michael and his mindless schemes. He tried so hard to be a noble knight errant, but I knew how he tended to go about things in a backward way. Still, I couldn't imagine how he'd managed to get on the bad side of such a rich man.

"I'm sorry, but I don't travel with him anymore," I admitted.

Pierce raised an eyebrow. "Is that so? My reports tell me that you were quite close with Jack Bannister and recently reunited with him in Tallowsport."

My heart which had been beating so wildly before now thudded to a near stop. "I… I.." Deep in my mind, I knew I had to say something to get out of this situation, but nothing translated into verbal words. After all, what could I say? If this man had been asking around, there would be some people who'd remember seeing Jack and I together at Tallowsport, and that could be interpreted in a number of ways.

"I advise not trying to deny it, Master Fisk," Pierce warned. "I will go to any lengths to find Bannister, and at the moment, you are my only lead."

I hated how unconvincing and desperate my next words would sound, but they were the truth, and I had no answer. "I have not traveled with Jack for a long time. I have no idea where he is."

Pierce sighed as if I had disappointed him. "Loyalty is such a troublesome and painful thing," he mourned. "You'll see soon enough."

When he opened the door to leave the basement, I made sure to keep my eyes open to take in every detail of the room that I could in the brief moment that the light shined inside. I regretted the decision immediately after.

Swords and knives hung on the walls in every shape and size, some straight and some wickedly curved, but all were expertly sharpened. I recognized common torture contraptions like stocks, racks, and whips. However, those didn't frighten me nearly as much as an intricate pulley system and multiple tubs. I noticed the water swaying ominously in the largest barrel, and I was thankful when the darkness hid my fate from me once more.

…

I didn't know how long I waited with only the single lantern to comfort me. The aches in my arms grew worse until they tingled and then went numb. My stomach begged for food, but I knew that was a luxury I would not likely be experiencing for a long time. Though my eyelids drooped with a need for sleep, I couldn't dare let myself drift with all those instruments in the room with me.

…

Two of Pierce's 'brutes' came down and lit a few more lanterns to cast the room in an ominous pallor. When one unlocked my chains, my arms screamed in agony, and I immediately missed being numb. I started to struggle but soon realized that exhaustion and hunger-induced weakness eliminated any effect, and I recognized Pierce's game. He kept me locked up so long, so I'd already be weak when he started.

Iron-like fists clamped around my arms and dragged me to the tub of water. I had never liked water. I never learned to swim, and I avoided anything to do with it, especially after Michael's and my dealings with the sea. However, there was nothing I could do as they thrust me underneath and held me there until my lungs burned and my tears dissolved unseen into the torturous depths.

When they finally let me up, I gasped desperately for air and begged for a moment of reprieve. They only pushed me under again. After three more endless sessions, they demanded Jack's whereabouts, and I could only shake my head and sob. I couldn't remember the last time I had cried. Normally, I had to be the strong one for Michael, but with no one to witness my humiliation, I allowed a few tears… but only a few. These bastards didn't deserve anymore.

They returned me to my chains, and I didn't even mind the pain. At least this kind was familiar.

…

After the water torture, they turned to knives, making long shallow cuts. I started to hate Jack when the pain peaked. Even though he couldn't possibly know about my situation, I blamed him in my weaker moments. Then I tried to remind myself with memories of our better times together.

…

I lost track of time.

…

The worst part wasn't even the torture. I hated when they left me alone even more.

With nothing to do but stare at the lantern in my hateful chains, thoughts that I had been avoiding for a long time plagued my brain. I remembered every adventure I shared with Jack. Some of our cons were funny stories while other couldn't be told in polite company. Then I thought of that last con, and my bitterness at my current situation only festered.

I often thought of Michael. We had our own share of adventures, mostly him getting us into all kinds of trouble. To be honest, I preferred thinking of the in-between times. When we splurged on a good meal, exchanged stories over a campfire, argued about sensible prices. When we slowly revealed pieces of ourselves while traveling or when we'd just gotten off a temporary job.

We'd grown close in a way that Jack and I never had. To Jack, I was always a kid. I'm not sure what I was to Michael, but it was something more equal.

Not that any of it mattered now. I had burned both of those bridges.

I was alone.

…

Sometimes Pierce visited me. I learned to hate his snobby, noble accent.

…

I always expected it to be Michael's fault if I ever found myself in life-threatening peril. I may have dabbled in more criminal activities during my time with Jack, but he had a good head for saving his own skin, and usually his safety meant mine. That was, until he wrote me off as a loser, and a dangerous one at that, and left me behind.

My theory wasn't unsound. Michael was behind all the tight situations I had been in during the past two years. The issue with Lady Ceciel, the ridiculous plan to capture the wreckers, and our enslavement to the Rose had all come about because of him. He might have argued that Jack had been behind the wreckers and the Rose, but I wouldn't have been involved if it wasn't for Michael.

However, I couldn't argue that Michael didn't deal with his fair share of pain. While I always seemed to be the one in trouble when I traveled with Jack, Michael had made a point to bare all the pain between the two of us.

If he was here now, I knew he'd willingly trade places with me. At least… he would have before.

After the way we left, I couldn't be so sure. He'd be smart to write me off for good. I wouldn't blame him. He had never been that smart in the past, but perhaps I had taught him a lesson similar to the one Jack had taught me.

I bet he'd gotten too smart to help me now. I hoped so.


	2. Michael

**Chapter Two: Michael**

A cheap, and neither clean nor respectable inn. 'Twas a summary of the state of my funds if nothing else.

After settling down on a shabby cot in the corner of my room, I hopelessly shook my empty purse over the moldy quilts in hopes that some of the Rose's blood money would spill out and save me from a night of fleas and ticks. Unfortunately, my ambition to buy the old chandlery back in Tallowsport had robbed me of all my funds. I didn't even have a fract for an evening meal, and with twilight settling in, I had no means of working my way to a full stomach.

Vaguely, I wondered if the stable which housed Chant and True was more clean and respectable than this miserable dump. Mayhap I'd made a mistake by spending the last of my small fortune, but this was the first night I'd rested with a roof over my head in weeks, fleas and ticks be damned. I'd had worse.

The thing about cheap inns is that the innkeepers charge extra for a bowl and pitcher, so I had no choice but to steal outside when no one was around in order to wash at the nearest well. Normally, this wouldn't have been an issue, but the flogging scars on my back and the tattoos of the unredeemed on my wrists usually created more gossip than I needed. The last thing I wanted was to be thrown out of this little town without a brass fract to my name on a night as cold as this, so cautiously, I crept out to the empty courtyard.

Once I made sure I really was alone, I stripped my doublet and shirt, and raised the bucket from the well. Water sloshed, blending nosily with the loud clamor from the pub on the other side of the courtyard. As long as no drunkards came out and noticed my scars, I was safe to wash in peace. Weeks of dirt scrubbed off after minutes of scratching and cursing. Mayhap my vulgarity suited me for this particular inn if my scoundrel appearance and growing beard didn't already.

I was about ready to pull my greasy clothes back on when the sound of approaching footsteps struck me stone still. I half-expected to set sight on a sheriff or even the furious innkeeper (I'd learned years ago that rumors of an unredeemed man in town spread faster than wildfire—even if I'd yet to learn how the rumors were able to spread with such uncanny speed), but when I warily glanced up, all I saw was a balding young man carrying a pack full of undelivered letters.

"Master Sevenson?" the boy asked warily. He held a grubby note out toward me.

Just as I had done for weeks in the past, I channeled the habits of an old friend long gone. "Who wants to know?" I asked. Luckily, I had already pulled on my shirt to hide my scars.

The messenger boy swallowed nervously. "A lady of Seven Oaks, sir. I've been on the road pursuing a Master Sevenson for weeks on her urgent orders. Said she needed your immediate reply."

A lady of Seven Oaks? Kathy! In all the years since I'd been declared unredeemed, she'd never once written me, under orders from our father. Regularly, she wrote Fisk, whose letter reception was not unlawful, and therefore permitted by me. But with Fisk long gone—for better or worse—I had not heard news from Kathy in quite some time.

But why was she writing to me now? Had she heard word of my recent separation from my former squire? Mayhap Fisk had told her in his last letter, and now she had no choice but to go against our father's wishes and write to me herself.

"I am Master Sevenson," I confirmed, and held out my hand, remembering at the same time that the lad would require payment for the letter, for which I had none.

However, the boy briskly placed the letter in my outstretched hand. He looked slightly horrified, and I immediately understood why: my sleeve was still open, and the broken circles inked on the inside of my wrist stood out against my skin. 'Twas a dishonorable thing to use my brand to scare an innocent messenger boy and get what I needed, but I was sure Fisk would have thought it a useful strategy. How else would I have received Kathy's letter?

I tried to yell a kind "Thank you!" after the boy as he ran off, but his feet were too quick, and my voice died off into the night. I realized dismally that I would have to leave the inn before the whole town learned of my presence, but I needed to read Kathy's letter first. What could it say?

_Dearest Michael,_

_I know you will be angry to learn I disobeyed Father's orders, but I had to reach you by word at once. I have been worried lately because word from Tallowsport has reached Seven Oaks, as have the rumors of a planned war that could have ripped apart the United Realm. I'd wondered if you'd heard the same. Father has been furious, but thankful that the realm was spared such bloodshed, thank the gods._

_However, the reason I write to you so urgently is because of Master Fisk. He last wrote me saying that you and he had gone your separate ways. I am sorry to hear this, for I know how much you cherished his friendship. Master Fisk also wrote that he believed he was being followed by some strangers in a town called Havenport. Since then, I have not received word of his whereabouts, and it has me concerned. _

_Michael, I sensed through Fisk's recent letters that you and he did not part on friendly terms. He did not tell me the reason for your estrangement, but I know that you two cared for one another deeply, just as I have come to care about Fisk. That is why I ask that you do as a noble knight errant would and find him for me. Make sure he is safe, and send word that you have heard my plea._

_Affectionately and Always your loving sister, Kathy_

I reread the letter twice before I found the will to move. So Fisk still wrote my sister long after he parted ways with me? My first instinct was to become unnaturally furious. How dare he keep in correspondence with Kathy while he connived his way through life sharping cards or committing whatever blasted crimes a conman such as he did on a daily basis. He would corrupt my sister through his letters alone!

But he had last written that he was being followed… By whom? The lacking details in Kathy's note puzzled me greatly. Could Fisk have found himself in deep water, just as I had predicted he would the day he freed Jack and left me for good? I had to admit, I wasn't surprised. Fisk was a good con artist, but he had been caught before. I knew this, for 'twas I who had once paid his debt and freed him from a blood punishment by making him my squire. That had been years ago, but I doubted much had changed where Fisk's thievery was concerned.

I had warned Fisk that he would get himself into trouble without me. At the time, those had been angry words spoken out of malice and betrayal. Now, I knew them to be true. For whatever reason, Fisk had dug himself into a hole of his own making. Why should I be the man responsible for saving his skin?

I reread Kathy's letter once more: _Just as I have come to care about Fisk. _

Now what did that mean? Was it possible that my younger sister had developed affectionate feelings for my old squire? It couldn't be. Fisk would have said something… Wouldn't he?

I doubted it, because in all honesty, there were many things that Fisk had waited too long to tell me, like his history with Jack Bannister, or the fact that justice never had and never would mean anything to him. I still thought his bitter words lies, but 'twould be foolish of me to dwell on past betrayal. It had been weeks since Fisk deserted me in Tallowsport. Since then, I had survived well enough on my own.

Of course, few honest tradesmen hired unredeemed men to work in their shops, but I made decent wages when I remembered to keep my wrists covered and my appearance comely. Once in a while, I was caught. In Salemport, I tried to get a job at the local tavern, but had made the mistake of rolling up my sleeves before introducing myself. Angry townsmen had rushed me away with warnings to never return. Once in Meadowlake, a furious blacksmith had chased me out of his shop with a red-hot poker. I'd had other run-ins with the law as well, but none so scarring as my brief stay in Ruesport with Fisk's family. Murderous mobs threatening to hang me without a trial were definitely worse, but at least I'd had Fisk to defend me…

I wondered what sort of trouble Fisk had landed himself in now. Then again, did I care enough to find out? For all I knew, Fisk never wanted to see me again. He had _deserted _me. He no longer cared about anyone but himself.

_I'm not your poxy squire._

A stab of pain still tore through my heart whenever I remembered his hurtful words. Ever since I decided to abandon the world of noble responsibilities and become a knight errant, a trade practically as ancient as the Furred god himself, Fisk had been the only one to support my choice. After weeks of scoffing, he had even accepted his role as my squire, and together we had explored the realm in search of adventures and good deeds. I had never been ashamed of my knighthood with him by my side.

Now, I was alone, and such loneliness only grew with time.

I hated it.

Suddenly angry, I crumpled Kathy's letter in my fist and stormed back into the inn. My room was on the second floor, and each step up the stairs was a furious stomp. I had never faced such a confliction. Did I heed my sister's wish and go to Havenport in search of Fisk, or go about my way as a lonely nomad?

A true knight errant would rescue the helpless. A man betrayed would turn a blind eye on the situation.

So what kind of man was I?

I glanced down at my wrists gloomily. For years, the broken, interlocked circles of the unredeemed had ruled my life and my choices. They had also inspired me to defy their meaning and live my life with honor and chivalry. Did I still hope to live in such a way?

Would Fisk even want me to rescue him, if he was in trouble like Kathy suggested? Mayhap Fisk had decided to stop responding to Kathy's letters and was in no danger at all? What was more, I doubted Fisk would ever come to my aid if something terrible should ever happen to me.

Then again, I had to remember that Fisk had once saved my life from the clutches of a certain Lady Ceciel. He hadn't needed to, but he'd chosen to do the honorable thing.

How long ago that had been…

Almost like another lifetime…

I glanced around my shabby room, gathered my pack, and blew out the bedside lamp. I would rouse a stable boy to ready Chant and then be on my way. I still had not made a decision, but I could not stay in this little town any longer. Men with torches and glaring eyes were already forming a mob outside the inn's door.

Yes, I would leave, but the gods only knew where I would end up.


	3. Fisk 2

**Chapter Three: Fisk**

Each strike of the whip flayed my flesh, but the sting of memories hurt far worse.

Was it three years ago when I watched Michael in this very position? Hands bound above his head, shirt ripped away. It was hardly the same situation though. His wrists were tied to the mast of a ship, and he willingly set his shirt aside. Mine were bound to a low beam in the basement ceiling, and my shirt hung in rags around my arms where the brutes didn't quite rip it all away.

He lasted a long time without even saying a word, and when he did finally voice his pain, it was low moans. Michael never screamed until no rational person could take the pain any longer.

I always claimed heroism to be vastly overrated, and there was no one but my torturers and me to know of my weakness. I whimpered from the start, and I barely endured a few lashes before screams tore from my throat. I shouted until my voice grew hoarse, and then I could only rasp grotesque sobs. When tears rolled unbidden down my cheeks, I did not have the energy to stop them.

I swear, the nerve-endings in my back heightened to supernatural senses in order to feel each dig into my flesh. I could actually hear blood drops splattering on the dirt floor, and I remembered how it felt to watch Michael endure this same agony.

The image of Michael's flayed back rose into my memory. That cursed ship was where I realized I actually cared about whether Michael lived or died beyond how it would affect my unredeemed status. I spent days on end with only brief hours of asleep in order to keep his back medicated, and when infection set in, I risked far worse than a flogging to save him.

He didn't realize how lucky he was. He volunteered for his torture, and he had someone to care for him afterward. I never asked for any of this, and whose arms will embrace me but the ones who laid these scars in the first place?

A sudden rise of hatred that tasted like bile stirred deep in my stomach, and I irrationally wished that Jack could see what he was putting me through. I swore earlier that I wouldn't let Pierce change my opinion of him, but it was difficult when I could imagine Jack making off with whatever money he conned from Pierce safe and sound. I reminded myself that Jack likely didn't know of my situation, but the inevitable question quickly followed: Would he come for me even if he did?

The cracks of the whip sounded farther apart and eventually stopped altogether, and I waited for the relief that would hit me as soon as they released my wrists. Relief which never came.

My torturers left the basement, and I was once again alone with only a candle as company. My body slumped forward, and all my weight pulled on my already-damaged wrists. I attempted to scramble to my feet, but I no longer had the strength to even hold myself up. Fire licked at my open wounds, and I felt as if I would never be whole or warm or safe again. Cold leeched into my soul.

…

Even before he stepped into the light, I knew it would be Pierce. The door creaked open, and the same creeping feeling skittered just under my skin. He took small, deliberate steps to where I hung limply and observed my appearance with calculating eyes. I hated him.

"There really isn't much to you, is there?" he mused.

I did not know if he referred to my depleted physical stature or my spirit, but either way, I did not give an answer.

"Then again," Pierce corrected himself. "That whip was made from leather from a magica hide. Someone Giftless like you would not have appreciated such a remarkable tool, but surely you at least noticed its efficiency?"

Perhaps it was the flickering candlelight or the reflection off his black doublet, but I swore his eyes gleamed like a demon's. A different sort of pain than my aching muscles and agonizing back curled in the back of my throat, and I wondered what made Jack target this man. While Jack wasn't always the best judge of character, surely he noticed the madness within Pierce.

"Come now, where is that sharp tongue? My reports tell me you can be quite entertaining in dire situations. Is this not dangerous enough for you?" he taunted.

I found enough energy to raise my head and glare at him. "I don't know where Jack is," I told him, not for the first time.

"Oh, I know," Pierce agreed dismissively. I felt the blood drain from my body because if he knew I couldn't give him what he wanted, why keep me? Why continue this cruel torture? "You are too weak to hold out information under this treatment. You're not nearly as loyal as you claim to be, are you?"

Somehow, his accusation impaled me in a way that wouldn't heal like the flogging wounds would. "I never claimed to be anything," I choked out. I felt as if I'd traveled back in time to when Michael and I parted ways, and I told him that I didn't believe in justice despite what he had always assumed.

Pierce made a noise of disapproval, but he didn't deny me. One of his long, skeletal fingers brushed against me cheek. I wondered if he could feel my dried tears. I wondered if that pleased him. When I turned away, he gripped my chin firmly and moved my head side to side as if inspecting it.

"Why?" I demanded. I found I still had a little steel left in my voice.

"I have a proposal for you. You may not know where Jack Bannister is now, but you have traveled with him the longest. I believe you have enough knowledge of his habits to find him," Pierce said.

For one terribly sick moment, I considered his offer. I imagined myself turning Jack over in return for my freedom. When I regained my senses, I hated myself for my weakness even more than I hated Pierce. I may not have been a hero, but I wasn't a traitor either. Though Michael might have disagreed… "No," I growled with as much disgust as I could manage.

"Don't act so proud. You can't afford such a luxury," Pierce warned.

I couldn't deny that. However, I also couldn't afford to be stupid. As close as I had come to giving up in the darkness and the pain, I wasn't quite ready to throw it all away yet. Jack had gotten me into this. It was only fair that I used the knowledge he'd given me to get out of it.

I tried to look as hurt and desperate as possible which wasn't hard considering how my wrists bled terribly and my back had yet to stop burning. "I can't find him from down here," I grumbled, and I did my best to let self-hatred and resentment leak into my voice. Once again, it did not exactly take much acting.

A wicked grin spread across Pierce's face. "Of course," he agreed. "I will tell you all you need to know, and then I shall accompany you into town. I'm sure a man of your skills can find Bannister in no time at all."

"Even if I do find him, you likely won't catch him," I hissed.

Pierce pulled out a dagger from his boot, and I wondered if Jack had taught him that trick as he had taught me. He held the blade up to my throat, and I only dared to breathe shallow breaths for fear of nicking my own skin. "I wouldn't underestimate me," he advised. A quick flash of silver was my only warning before new, explosive pain wracked through my entire body.

The ropes that had bound my wrists fell away, and I collapsed on the ground. My skin and muscles pulled in ways that set my back on fire once again. The blood had dried in grotesque patterns among and between ribbons of my mottled skin, but the unexpected movement ripped the wounds open and fresh blood streamed from them. My wrists didn't even look human anymore, the flesh was so bloody and raw.

I cried out, and I could tell Pierce grinned in response. "Don't worry," he assured me. "Some magica salve, and you will be just fine for investigating."

I wanted to retort with something sharp and sarcastic, but it took all my concentration to continue breathing. I curled into the fetal position on my knees, and it suddenly struck me how far I had fallen. How long had I been here? How long had my will lasted before I became this pale excuse for what I used to be?

I had hopes when I came to Havenport. The city had been booming with new businesses, and I had felt like I could either pull off a few good cons or even make an honest living. For once in my life, there were opportunities before me.

"You should know that your treatment will continue as it has if you do not bring about results. If you can't tell me something positive within a week's time, your fingernails will be forcefully removed. If you haven't found Jack within the month, the punishment will be far worse," Pierce said. He spoke of these terrible things with the same indifferent tone he used with everything else.

I think I managed to nod in return, for he continued. "Someone will be down shortly to apply magica medicine and to give you something to eat. If you'll be going outside, you'll need to look decent. We'll find you clothing as well."

"Do you know why I have faith that you'll find Jack Bannister?" Pierce suddenly asked.

The question piqued my interest, and I raised my head slightly to show it. As I had no idea if I would be able to find Jack or not, I was curious to hear his reasoning.

"Jack heard of Havenport's success, and he came here to exploit it. Though you two clearly aren't working together anymore, you did the same. Albeit, you were smart enough not to attempt to con me." Pierce let that sink in for a while and then left the basement.

It occurred to me that he had not chained me, and I could check my surroundings if I wished. However, the pain was too extreme to even attempt crawling, so I stayed where I was. Besides, his words acted as more powerful bonds than ropes or chains ever could.

So I was still in Havenport. The knowledge did little for me, but the implications made me nauseous. For better or for worse, even after all this time, I was still just like Jack.


	4. Michael 2

**Chapter Four: Michael**

I made it to Lionelvale in two days. I had no reason to enter this little village, but I'd heard word that it was the closest town to Havenport—about four leagues away. However, I still had not decided whether or not to grant the wishes of my sister's letter, but at least I had the option if I ever made up my mind.

I also had not eaten in three days, and because no one in town knew my name or reputation, I figured I could find work if I was careful enough. I tied Chant's reins to a tree on the outskirts of town in hopes that the thin forest would hide him from sight until I returned. Hopefully I could also count on True to be a watchful guard dog.

Stomach groaning, I ventured along the outer perimeter of the town without my sword or pack. I was sure Fisk would have called my choice foolish, but he wasn't here to criticize my decisions. Besides, if he were here, he would be the one guarding my possessions while I went in search of supplies. I could only blame him if something unfortunate happened.

I found work repairing a farmer's fence around his vegetable garden. Thankfully, the weather was cool and did not require me to remove my shirt. As long as I kept my sleeves rolled down, no one would think me an unforgiven criminal. Still, I wished I owned a razor to shave my beard. The farmer's wife stared at me as if I were a wrecker bent on burning down her barn.

Soon, I was paid, and the nearest pub nearly screamed my name. I left to collect Chant and True, paid a groom outside the inn to feed and water them, and then left in search of a meal. My mouth watered at the less than savory smells wafting in from the kitchen—dry chicken and old potatoes, if I guessed correctly (beggars can't be choosers)—as I took a chair in the corner of the pub. At a center table, I overlooked an old man sharping cards in a most obvious display. Next thing I knew, four brutes were demanding their money back and threatening to slit the sharper's throat for cheating them so terribly.

In the past, I may have intervened on the old crook's account. Of course, he was a criminal caught in the act, but his crime did not deserve a blood punishment. Now, I could only sulk and slump deeper in my chair as I watched the scene play out. I was tired, hungry, and heartbroken. A true knight errant would have disregarded those hindrances and fought for justice. I, on the other hand, watched pitilessly as the old sharper was dragged out of the pub and probably down some dark, desolate alley where he would, no doubt, be pummeled to a pulp.

I doubted Fisk would have gotten himself caught performing such a simple trick. I'd seen him "sharp" cards many times in the past. His display had always been flawless, as well as honest. He knew how to sharp cards without actually sharping, and I had to admit, watching him had always impressed me.

But mayhap Fisk had slipped his trick and suffered the same fate as the careless sharper? Was my old squire foolish enough to make such a mistake, or was my imagination jumping to ridiculous conclusions once again? Absently, I touched the outer fabric of my doublet. Hidden inside the inner pocket was Kathy's crumpled letter. I had not reread it since the night I'd received it—mainly because I'd memorized it after three read-throughs. Was Fisk really in danger, or was Kathy in denial that her charming conman no longer wished to maintain correspondence?

The sorry coward couldn't even distance himself from my sister through honorable means, the son of a bitch…

Bitterly, I waited for the cook to finish supper and tried not to let my mind run too wild. Fisk had forgotten about me. I had to remember that. His life was his life, and none of my concern. Whatever hot water he'd found himself in was his problem and his alone. I would not get involved. Not for a thousand gold roundels.

"Michael?"

That voice…strangely familiar and somehow foreign. Almost like homesickness and old dreams singing a duet in my ears. I looked up. "Kathy?"

Before my table stood my sister, although she could have fooled me. If not for her voice, I would have thought her a lovely stranger, for Kathy no longer resembled the lanky, bespectacled lady of her youth. The woman standing before me was young and beautiful, the embodiment of grace and poise. Where was her stringy brown hair and red freckled face? Had three years really passed so quickly?

I stood up, shaky from hunger and shock. "What are you doing here?"

Kathy peeled back her fur traveling hood to better examine my appearance. Now I really wished I owned a razor. With my tangled beard, tattered clothes, and no doubt half-starved features, I better embodied a ghoul from our favorite childhood tales than her runaway older brother. However, her face revealed neither shock nor horror. Merely confusion, as if she, too, did not know where the years had gone.

"I never thought I'd find you. By the gods, it's really you." A thankful smile graced her face, and it convinced me enough that this woman was, in fact, my sister. She used to smile at me like this when we were children together.

Before I could utter a word, she closed the distance between us and threw her arms around me. I returned the gesture with double the strength. How I had missed her. Even if I was confused beyond all measure by her random presence, I was grateful to hold her again. My baby sister…

I pushed her back to see her clearly. "Kathy, I don't understand… How did you find me? _Why _have you found me?"

Kathy appeared aghast that I would even wonder such a question. "Are you really as mad as Father thinks you are? You received my letter, didn't you? I asked for an immediate response. When none came, I decided to hire a tracker and come after you myself."

"_You what?_"

My sister nodded repeatedly, still holding me. "Of course. Naturally, Father has no idea. Or at least, he didn't when I left Seven Oaks in the dead of night a week ago. I'm sorry to say he'll be just as furious as he was when Rosamund ran off with that troupe of traveling players, but I don't care. Michael, you know why I'm here, don't you?"

I could not believe my sorry ears. My little sister, a disgrace like me? This couldn't be. "Kathy, we have to get you home at once."

"Michael—"

"Do you have any idea what Father will do—?"

At once, Kathy ripped her arm from my grip and glared at me in a way that chilled me to the bone. Blast it all, she _had_ become a woman in my absence. This saddened me just as much as it frightened me.

"I am not going home. I hired the tracker so I could make sure you were safe. You didn't write, so what was I supposed to think? And with Fisk missing and you alone, I—"

I held up my hand and bowed my head solemnly. I still could not believe that my sister had me tracked, but 'twas no use fighting the truth, especially because I was so happy to see her. But I also understood the reasoning behind her motives, even if she hadn't spoken them aloud yet, and I wasn't ready to face them.

At least Kathy decided to change the subject. "Would you look at yourself?" she practically whispered, but not out of disgust. Sympathy rang in her voice, as did half a whimper. "What has the world done to you?"

I shook my head woefully. "You'd be in for a tale or two."

"I'm sure," Kathy said. "I barely recognized you when the tracker pointed you out." She reached out to touch my bramble bush of a cheek. "I take it you haven't eaten in a while?"

"'Twould be the sorry truth," I confirmed.

She grinned somberly. "I have some money. Let's find you a better meal and some clothes. You look in need of a bath, as well. Where's Chanticleer?"

"In the stable. But Kathy, I still don't fully understand. I can't believe you're here. My mind refuses to accept it."

"Well, accept it. I haven't traveled across the United Realm just to listen to you drone on with disbelief."

"Then why have you come?" I prompted moodily.

"I think you know."

'Twas true, but I didn't have to like it. Grumpily, I slid her letter out from the pocket of my doublet. She stared at me almost eagerly, like the child from her youth.

"Mayhap we should go elsewhere to discuss this?" she suggested.

I nodded and steered her out of the disreputable pub. Truth be told, I did not expect my lonely day to end in pleasant company, but if I had learned anything from my years of knight errantry, it was that people whom you never expected to see again appeared in your life at unplanned times, whereas those you thought most loyal were capable of disappearing within the blink of an eye.

…

Kathy was able to afford a room at a clean _and _respectable inn, and I took advantage of the luxury with no trace of guilt. I washed, brushed, shaved, and even ate until my dignity was restored. All the while, Kathy left me alone until I was ready to talk. I wondered if she thought my bitter mood strange, but she did not voice such wonderings aloud. Mayhap she even understood the reason for my resentment. After all, she'd written in her letter that she suspected Fisk and I had parted on unfriendly terms. 'Twas the truth, so how could she blame me?

"You look far better," she teased in her old sisterly manner when I reentered the room.

I rubbed my newly smooth jaw and plopped down on the bed beside her. Fleece and flannel sheets had never felt softer. "I feel better, too. If not for you, I'd still look as mangy as a dirty rogue."

Sweetly, Kathy giggled, then smoothed over her features until her eyes shone with pleading. "Have you made up your mind, then?"

And so we arrived at the moment of truth. I sighed and placed my head in my hands. If Kathy looked closely, she would see my tattoos peeking through the loose cuffs of my sleeves. "What do you want me to say?" I asked.

"What do you mean? Michael, I have reason to believe Fisk is in grave danger," she shot back.

"And what makes you so sure?"

All pleasantry was long gone. "Did you even read my letter?" she cried. "I told you, Fisk wrote me saying he was being followed by some strangers in Havenport. Some of them even moved into the room next door at the inn where he was staying."

"He told you all this?"

"Yes."

"And then he stopped writing?"

"Yes. And I believe those strangers are the reason for his neglect. Michael, I'm scared for him. You wouldn't understand why—"

"Are you two lovers?" The words spilled from my lips before I could stop them, and my cheeks immediately flared with a blush worse than Kathy's.

"Michael," she whispered, falsely appalled. "Even if we were, do you think I would tell you? I don't want Fisk dead by your hand."

Her refusal to answer my question straightforwardly essentially confirmed my suspicions. Inside, my intestines boiled. Mayhap Kathy thought Fisk cared about her, but 'twould be a lie to allow her to go on believing my old squire's con. Yes, she was a grown woman capable of making her own choices, but as her older brother, I had a duty to protect her heart from back-stabbing scoundrels. "I'm afraid Fisk isn't the man you think you know, Kathy," I told her dismally.

Unfortunately, my sister looked ready to argue the point. "I won't believe that. Fisk has been writing me for three years. That is a long con to keep running, if that's what you're thinking. I don't know what happened between the two of you, but I refuse to believe Fisk is a liar."

"You speak of what you do not know."

"Then tell me," Kathy demanded sharply. "I want to know. What happened between you and Fisk? What could possibly keep you from saving the life of the only man to stay by your side after you were declared unredeemed? The only man who nursed you back to health countless times _and_ the man who mended your broken heart after Rosamund trampled it to dust?"

"He told you that—?"

"A true knight errant would not abandon his squire, Michael. Not for anything—"

"He isn't my squire."

"What?"

"He _isn't _my squire," I repeated with trembling force. I had to take slow, even breaths to control my quivering shoulders. Sighing deeply, I finished, "Not anymore, if he ever was. He abandoned me, Kathy. He decided that he would rather fulfill a life of thievery and cons than travel with me. _That _is the type of man Fisk is. I wish with all my heart that I could say differently, but 'tis the truth. He said so himself. He _is not _my squire."

Kathy did not say a word as she digested my tale of woe. Merely reciting it aloud made my chest clench painfully, but I refused to show any sign of weakness. That would give Fisk too much credit. If only he knew how little I missed him. How little I cared…

_What disgusting lies…_

Finally, my sister drew a steady breath. "I understand that Fisk hurt you terribly, but I still do not see how your resentment matches the fealty of a knight errant."

"I'm not a knight errant."

And there it was—my truth revealed like stars behind the clouds. 'Twas a painful notion to admit, but I could not deny it any longer, and before I could stop them, tears burned my eyes and threatened to pour atop my naked wrists and the blast-damned tattoos which scarred them. How pitiful I must have looked to Kathy. How disgraceful. Mayhap she now saw the same wretch our father had seen the day the judicars branded me an unforgiven waste of noble blood.

But much to my surprise, Kathy covered my wrists with her bare hands and squeezed gently. When I looked up at her, I saw nothing but a smile and a warm gaze through the tears in my eyes. "Now, I know that isn't true," she said seriously. "Of all the knights past and present, you are the very best. I can declare this honorably because I know 'twas you and Fisk who stopped the Rose's plot in Tallowsport. I didn't say as much in my letter, but my tracker discovered the truth weeks ago and told me in confidence. Now, I may not be an expert on such subjects, but I'm willing to wager that few knights have ever stopped a full-on bloodshed with only their trusty squire as back-up. Am I wrong?"

I looked at her in shock. My clever sister knew so much. I squeezed her hand and did not fight her grip when she pushed my head atop her shoulder. It felt nice to be held. "You're not wrong, though I cannot in good conscious say that my business in Tallowsport ended as well as you think. The Rose was not tried and another villain escaped the law because of my negligence."

"Well, not even knight errants are perfect."

I smiled at that, for 'twas the truth. Then I thought of Fisk, who neither believed in justice nor loyalty—values I cherished as much as honor, love, and chivalry. Fisk was not perfect, but he was not a bad man, either. I had traveled with him long enough to know that for certain. He simply upheld different morals than myself. Whatever his ethics, I had a duty as a knight errant to help him if he needed me. I had a duty as his _friend _to save his life once again.

I looked at Kathy and sighed. "Don't think I'm doing this because you're in love with my old squire."

Much to my entertainment, Kathy appeared torn between looking affronted and overjoyed. "So you're going to Havenport?"

"Well, yes, but first, we're going to find out if Fisk is truly in danger. If he is, I'll do my best to help him. If not, then I will have no choice but to see you home. And you will write to Father before we leave. You can tell him that you're safe with a friend, but don't reveal your location or my name. The last thing I need is another tracker on my trail."

Kathy rolled her eyes in a way that brought me back to my childhood, but she did not complain. Our compromise sealed our fates. "Then we have no time to lose. To Havenport?"

"To Havenport."


	5. Fisk 3

**Chapter Five: Fisk**

I felt close to death as I laid on the ground, and I wondered how long I could wallow in my own pity. The blood dried sticky and grotesque, and the pure discomfort bothered me almost as much as the pain. I hated myself. I hated what I had become.

When two of the brutes finally returned and pulled me to my feet, I was almost relieved. They laid me face down on a table. Two rough hands lathered cool salve on the marks of each lash, and I knew from the immediate relief that the medicine was magica. The salve healed my wounds thoroughly, but while the pain faded away to a mere thrum, I knew I would forever have scars on my back, wrists, and forearms.

I thought wryly of how Michael and I had matching scars now, but Michael would never know. I doubted I would ever see my friend again, and the thought weighed heavily in my stomach. But no. I couldn't give up yet. As hopeless as my situation seemed, I still had my wits about me… for the most part.

Then again, perhaps my mind wasn't as whole as I had originally thought. Opened up by the image of our matching scars, memories of our times together flooded into my mind, and I couldn't shake them away. Some brought odd smiles to my face while others sent pangs through my heart, and my rapidly changing face expressions must have been disconcerting to the hired thugs forced to clean me up. I wondered if my sanity was quite as stable as I had hoped.

The brutes stripped me of my ruined clothing and dressed me in black trousers, a plain grey tunic, boots, and a dark green cloak. The hood of the cloak would serve to hide my face from anyone who might have recognized me and wondered why I had returned after however long I had been missing. I doubted the precaution was necessary, especially considering how much weight I had lost. I had yet to see my face, but I imagined it had changed as well.

I still felt dirty in a way that no bath could cure, but the clean clothing did help. The magica also allowed me to move without my skin and joints screaming. Then another hired hand brought a tray of food, and two others helped me into a sitting position on the table in order to eat. After going so long without food, I made sure to eat slowly so as not to get sick. Jack taught me that, too.

My strength returned to me with each precious mouthful, and strange relief lightened the weight around my heart. I worried I would never leave this basement intact, but after completely breaking me down, Pierce was rebuilding me bit by bit.

I chewed small bites of bread mindlessly as I wondered what exactly I had become during my trials, and I felt almost grateful that Michael would never see me like this. At least I wouldn't have to see the disappointment and disgust in his eyes.

Not that I had never seen that expression on his face before.

I found that I no longer had the stomach to finish even the small meal I had been brought, so I pushed the tray aside and waited for whatever the brutes planned to do next. However, apparently, they had done the best they could with me because they stood at the side of the room, and Pierce was the next person to come see me.

He sniffed at my appearance. "You'll do, I suppose," he sighed. I wanted to growl at him. He was the reason behind my depleted state after all.

"I can't investigate Jack if I don't have some idea of what he had been doing and what he took," I told him. Despite my situation the old excitement of a new con tickled the back of my mind. Jack rarely did anything that put him at risk, so I knew this had to be big for him to get involved with a man like Pierce.

Pierce nodded. "Of course, I am not unreasonable. I will give you all the information you need in order to track Bannister down. With your rumored skills, I'm sure you will only need a few days in town," he assured me.

I glared at him, waiting. I considered standing, so we would be eye-to-eye, but I quickly dismissed the idea for fear that I would stumble and fall while trying to get down from the table.

"Hmm… I rather detest discussing such serious matters in this setting. Join me upstairs. We'll talk then," Pierce decided. He motioned to his hired hands, and two escorted me as we followed him up the steps of the basement.

…

Going upstairs was one of the most disorienting experiences of my life. I had no idea how long I had been down in the basement, but the time seemed to waver, and my reality grew elusive. I felt like I was re-entering the universe after spending years in another, darker land. When we reached the top and opened the door, I blinked into the bright light and couldn't focus for several moments.

The basement door opened into the kitchen, and I immediately noticed the wide variety of expensive food. Just as I had suspected, Pierce was clearly well off. My old habit of pricing my surroundings came back, and I figured Pierce might be the richest man in the city by his cooking wares alone. Two servant girls bustled about the room, but neither seemed surprised by the sudden appearance of a stranger from the basement.

Pierce lead us to the parlor room and gestured that I sit down in a chair that likely cost more than my sister's house. He lounged in an identical one across from me. One of the servant girls brought in a tray of tea and placed it on the table between us.

"Surely, you have noticed my extreme wealth," Pierce opened. He gestured around the room, and my eyes followed his hand, taking in the posted guards, overflowing bookshelves, and fine-quality décor. Even the gold-rimmed tea set served to display Pierce's riches. As a man who spent most of his life conning for brass fracts, I felt resentment bubbling up inside.

"I could hardly miss it," I retorted. "You're torture instruments are of fine quality as well."

The comment didn't seem to bother Pierce in the slightest. He sipped from his tea cup and nodded. "Yes, I accept only the best. The same for my tea as well. Have a cup," he offered.

I used to never accept food or drink from suspicious persons, but after everything else Pierce had put me through, I doubted his tea could do any more damage. I took the second cup and sipped from the steaming liquid, a minty flavor flooding my mouth. Under different circumstances, the liquid would have relaxed me, and I would have been happy to spend the entire afternoon drinking cup after cup while reading a book. As things were, I only felt vaguely nauseous.

"I accept only the best employees as well," Pierce continued. "That's why I hired Jack as my clerk when he came into town. I needed a new one after my last cracked under the pressure, and with my business only growing every day, my expectations were rather high."

I could already see where this was going. Whether Jack had the skills or not (though he often did), he could fall into any role perfectly.

"He came to me seeking employment, and after thorough review of his abilities and past work, I hired him. He worked for me for a few months, and while I never revealed what exactly my trade was, he catalogued the rather generous amounts I was adding to my ledgers. I should have known he would grow greedy even without his criminal past," Pierce hissed.

"So he snooped around, figured out whatever black market scheme you're running, and then disappeared with your key component?" I provided.

He glared at me. "I see he taught you his ways," he snapped.

I shrugged and sipped my tea casually. Perhaps I truly was losing my mind because I felt strangely at ease just being in the light again.

"It doesn't matter anyway," Pierce sighed. "He stole an important document from me and left town around two months ago."

"Two months is a long time to leave the trail cold," I scolded.

"Jack Bannister is a hard man to find information on, and you weren't much easier," Pierce shot back. I could tell he was growing irritated with me, and while I should have been scared, the revelation only gave me sick pleasure.

"I'll be able to find him faster if you tell me what sort of scheme you're running," I prompted, but he cut me off almost before I could finish the sentence.

"No. You will do just fine with the information I've given you." A wicked grin spread his lips grotesquely. "After all, you don't have a choice. You will find Jack Bannister, or you will sincerely regret it," Pierce reminded me.

A healthy dose of fear reacquainted itself with my heart.

…

Pierce assigned his head guard to escort me around Havenport. He went by the name of Peko, and unlike the tall and broad brutes who all resembled mountains, he was a few inches shorter than me and around the same breadth. However, he had more intelligence and spite than the rest put together, and traveling with him seemed akin to traveling with a dragon. However, two average-sized men drew less attention than a prisoner and a crowd of guards, but that wasn't to say they weren't there. Each brute was carefully positioned to keep an eye on me while staying out of the way, and I had a feeling Pierce was nearby as well.

I suggested going to the inn where Jack stayed first, and Peko grunted in response and led the way. As I followed, my eyes wandered around the city with new light.

Havenport had not really changed in my absence, but the way I looked at it did. I noticed the growing businesses of the city, the fine possessions of the common people, and the high quality of every product. The colors and the scents somehow seemed more vivid in this city. Perhaps this observation was a result from spending so much time in a basement, but the thoughts still unnerved me.

What sort of black market scam was Pierce running? Was his own extreme wealth a result or cause of Havenport's wealth as a whole?

I was not surprised when Peko led me to a clean and respectable inn. Jack taught me to always go the cheap route, but when he played his parts, he played them with complete devotion. A well-regarded clerk would have stayed in an inn like this, so he did as well.

I spoke with the innkeeper under Peko's critical eyes, but after two months, little information was to be gathered. Jack stayed in the same room for nearly six months, he never caused trouble or brought in a woman, he always paid his fares on time. These were the details to stick in an innkeeper's mind, and it didn't escape my attention how he eyed me with suspicion. I didn't blame him. With my ominous cloak and likely frightening face, I'm sure I looked like the type to cause tavern brawls and never pay my fare. I thanked him for his trouble and departed.

"Where are the stables?" I asked Peko next. We strolled down one of the busy main streets, and to any passersby, we must have looked like coworkers or even friends.

"If you're hoping to find which horses were rented two months ago, don't bother," he grunted. "The day after the bastard vanished, Pierce checked all the stables. Not a single man rented a horse that night, and there was no place at his inn to hold a horse that he rented beforehand."

I nodded, unsurprised. Jack didn't like to leave loose ends, and horses were too easy to track. "Did any ships leave the port that day?"

"Pierce is no idiot. He checked the ports, but no ships left that night, and none of the ships that left later that week had any new crew members," Peko rebuked.

"Jack is not an idiot either. He would have stowed away with the cargo, and likely, the captain and crew would never have known," I countered.

Peko only grunted in response, and I realized that he didn't particularly care whether I found Jack or not. Why should he? My life was the only one in danger here. Peko only followed Pierce's orders. Still, he adjusted our course to the boats.

As we made our way through the city, I scanned the buildings and people of Havenport, and I wondered what Jack was thinking as he took in these same sights. Never make the first move until you've planned the last. How often did he tell me that as we planned our heists? Before he applied for employment with Pierce, he already had an exit picked out. I just needed to find it.

Or did I? As I always did during a con, I felt myself separating. On the outside, I searched desperately for any clue to Jack's current whereabouts, but internally, my mind slowed down and catalogued every detail of Havenport with clinical efficiency. I truly was searching for Jack's manner of escape, but I would sooner follow him than reveal it to Pierce. However, even if I couldn't figure out Jack's train of thought, I could still manage just fine on my own. I ran my own fair share of cons after he left me.

"You have many herbalists for a port city," I commented. Each town tended to have at least one, and bigger towns like Havenport would sometimes have two, but I'd seen at least four in just the past two streets.

Peko shrugged as if the observation didn't mean much to him. "There's a large population of the Gifted here, and many turn to the work of medicine and potions," he dismissed.

"But why would they all go to the same city? Plenty of nearby towns have places for herbalists without the competition," I pointed out.

"This is a port city," Peko reminded me, clearly irritated now. "Some of them ship their goods to other ports. A few have their own carts that they use to carry their products to other towns. Leave it be. You'd best shut up, or you'll find Pierce is the merciful one of us two."

I consented and kept quiet for the rest of the walk to the ports, for I already had all the information I needed. Still, I kept up the façade, and I spent the rest of the day questioning nearly all the captains in the port whether their ship held any relevance at all. While many regarded me with the same suspicion as the innkeeper, they answered willingly enough though I listened with only half a mind. I kept careful watch on my guards all the while, and they did the same to me from a distance.

When the sky started to darken, Pierce caught me just after I'd finished talking to the captain of a shrimp boat who was visiting Havenport for the first time in two years. He took a sharp hold of my upper arm and pulled me to a semi-private dock. Peko faded back to rejoin his legion of men-at-arms.

"Have you discovered anything?" Pierce demanded.

I glared at him. "It's only been one day," I said.

"You've seemed busy enough," he accused.

"Yes… As it so happens, I have no idea where he went yet. I'll need more time," I admitted. The wicked gleam that lit up Pierce's eyes was enough to turn my stomach. His grasp on my arm tightened, and his fingers pierced into my flesh.

"Is that so?" he hissed.

I glared at him, but I refused to flinch under his fiery stare. "I have a few ideas. Of the ships you checked for crew members, two carried large loads of cargo. I know Jack. I know how he works. He might have hidden in one of the crates," I lied. "I'll need a few more days to determine which ship and where it made port next though."

His expression darkened in a way that turned my blood cold. "You're going to have to work faster than that," he snarled. Something was off with him. He always gave me the impression that he was a bit unhinged, but now the insanity was clear. Earlier that day, he acted as if he'd give me at least a week. Now he was demanding results immediately. I wondered what had happened while I was investigating that so rapidly changed his mind.

I attempted to shrug casually though the movement was a struggle with the way he held my arm, and I couldn't quite help the smugness that leaked into my voice. After all, as frightening as his actions were, it was a pleasure to see him distressed after the hell he had put me through. "It's been two months since he left. You can't expect me to figu-"

I heard the loud crack before I felt the pain, but my body jerked involuntarily. I would have fallen over if he didn't have such a firm grasp on my arm. My cheek burned furiously, and I wondered if there was a noticeable handprint from where he slapped it.

"You don't tell me what to expect. I tell you what to deliver," Pierce hissed coldly. "We're returning to your _home_, and tomorrow, you will bring about better results. Do you understand?"

I nodded jerkily. I understood all too well, and I could only hope that my plan would work out better in the long run. Not for the first time, I wondered just what Jack had stolen and what made it worth so much.

Pierce kept a firm hold on my arms as he marched us both back through Havenport. The town had calmed down a bit in the late evening, but people still bustled about from place to place in a way I had never seen in a city before. What gave Havenport this feverish energy? Where had Pierce gotten his wealth? Questions buzzed in my mind, and I had the sense that they were all connected, but I was too blind to see what picture they made.

I recognized this feeling from past adventures, but back then, I had had Michael to bounce ideas off of, and he'd always been more than willing to embrace the craziest of plans. Now I was alone, and the distorted pieces of knowledge only depressed me and weighed me down. At least I had the start of an idea of how Jack had vanished, and perhaps I could leave in the same way…

Pierce led us down a street devoted to produce and fish, and the mixture of food smells made me nauseous. I wondered if I would ever be able to eat a full meal again or if I would even have the chance to. Resentment once again reared its ugly head.

Then all thoughts of hatred stilted to a stop. While I had been idly scanning my surroundings before, my line of sight narrowed to a single point with vivid clarity, and everything else blurred with insignificance.

How… Why… I didn't understand. This didn't make sense. Something moved in my heart, and I wasn't sure if it was hope or despair. The feeling grew stronger, and my stomach lurched.

For better or for worse, I recognized that mildly handsome face, the light brown hair cut at noble length, the tall and lithe physique. He looked different in a way that I couldn't grasp in my shocked state of mind, but I recognized him all the same.

Oh yes, I recognized him. My heart stuttered as relief flooded through my veins only to be quickly replaced by guilt and fear. Why… I couldn't understand why…

Still, there was no denying who stood just a block away.

Michael.


	6. Michael 3

**Chapter Six: Michael**

Kathy and I arrived in Havenport not a day after she found me—me atop Chanticleer and she mounted on the back of an old mare named Marigold. My sister explained that she had "borrowed" the graying steed from Father, but I knew better than to believe her seemingly innocent tale. Despite her graceful disposition, I knew Kathy to be a cunning sneak when she wanted to be. No wonder my bastard of a squire fancied her; they shared more in common than I had originally supposed. Once again, my insides burned with unexplainable rage. 'Twould be my job to kill Fisk the moment I found him.

If Fisk wanted to be found, of course. I still had no idea whether he was in danger or not. 'Twould take some old-fashioned knight errant snooping to know for sure.

In years past, Fisk and I had done our fair share of investigating. Naturally, most of those incidents had ended in our capture, imprisonment, or even our close deaths, but those risks were expected from grand adventures. Mayhap Fisk would have disagreed, but I used to live for those daring moments, and if I guessed correctly, I was approaching quite a risk if I ever faced one.

I learned right away that Havenport was chock full of wealth. High-rise brick buildings curved around the neat, cobblestone roads, and various clerks and merchants were dressed in finely-trimmed doublets of every color. Massive ships floated in and out of the docks, delivering crates full of expensive imports, or so I guessed. Somehow, this town reminded me eerily of Tallowsport. Could it be possible that a similar business tycoon ruled this town with an iron fist?

My sensing Gift bristled to life inside my chest, and I wondered if Kathy felt the same heightening sense of inner intuition.

"Stay close to me," I warned amid the bustle of market life. I had never seen any street so full of commotion, and the last thing I needed was to lose my sister among the horde.

Kathy nodded and gently kicked Marigold's flanks in order to keep up. "Where do we start?"

I licked my lips and pondered. If I were Fisk, where would I begin? Surely my ever-resourceful squire would seek the council of a vagrant from the Beggar's Guild, but Havenport appeared too wealthy even for common vagabonds. If they did exist, they stayed well-concealed, and besides that, I did not desire another run-in with the untraditional guild. They went about their business by such uncommon means, like binding and hooding their interested parties and dragging them blindly across town to their place of meeting.

Discarding the idea, I focused on more practical means of obtaining information. "Fisk would still possess enough gold from our last errand to stay at a respectable inn. If we find his place of residence, mayhap we can coax a story out of the innkeeper."

"You sound as if you've done this before," Kathy smirked.

"Again, you're not wrong. When you travel for years with one as clever as Fisk, his street-smarts rub off on you."

"Do you miss him?"

At her words, I accidentally pulled too hard on Chanticleer's reins. The gray gelding neighed his signature rooster call and threw his head too far to the left, almost loosening a load off a produce-keeper's cart. I apologized rapidly to the merchant and steered Kathy down a less crowded alleyway. I knew she saw the pain in my eyes before I willed it away with one quick blink.

"It's more complicated than that. I miss the man he claimed to be, if that makes sense."

"It does," Kathy shrugged. "But I think you'll come to find that Fisk is still the man you traveled three long years with. Michael, did you ever stop and think that mayhap Fisk was tired of quests and adventures?"

"What?" I asked.

Because of my clear-cut confusion, Kathy rolled her eyes. "Not all men aspire to be squires to crazy knight errants. Mayhap Fisk had quite enough of errantry and needed a reprieve?"

I tried to shoot down my sister's supposition with kind rebuke. "'Twas much different than that, Kathy. Fisk betrayed me. He freed a murderous criminal—a criminal we'd captured together—behind my back merely because they'd worked together in the past. It didn't matter that the man had betrayed Fisk ten times over. Fisk still showed the bastard unflinching loyalty."

"And don't you think he'd show the same loyalty to you?"

This stumped me more than anything. "What are you suggesting?"

"I'm suggesting that if Fisk was willing to show such devotion to Jack—"

"Fisk told you his name?"

"—then mayhap he is even more devoted to you. I think Fisk was worried he'd grown too close to you. He seems like such a distant person most of the time, and it doesn't help that he's been betrayed by friends before."

I had to appreciate Kathy's level of analysis. Though Fisk had shown me fidelity during his time as my squire, he was a shady lone wolf if there ever was one. It had taken him weeks to warm up to me after I'd paid his debt in Deepbend, and months before he even considered sharing the slightest details of his past. I knew in truth that if I hadn't followed him to Ruesport, I would probably still know nothing of his family.

And if Jack Bannister hadn't reared his ugly face in Huckerston, I might've never learned of Fisk's former mentor.

Thoughts of Jack and his past treachery filled me to the brim with malice. I still knew little of the man whom Fisk spared from the gallows, but I hated the hold he possessed over my old squire almost more than I hated Fisk's desertion. Of course, Fisk acknowledged Jack's betrayal, but something in their past, may it have been successful cons or humorous plights, prevented him from turning his back on Jack, though the latter had no trouble performing acts of deceit whenever and wherever they were due…

Kathy eased me back to reality with a short wave of her hand, and I blinked back my stupor like film in front of my eyes. "I'm sorry," I told her quietly. "You would know best, you being his constant pen-pal and everything."

My sister rolled her eyes in good humor (I noticed she did that a lot whenever I mentioned her relationship with Fisk) and then insisted we make headway on finding Fisk's inn of choice.

We asked around the market for a clean establishment with a decent pub (Fisk likes to eat well when he has the means), and then made our way to the Sailor's Den—a shoreline inn fit for weary seadogs and travelers who could afford it. Seeing as Kathy was one of the latter, she rented us a room, as well as two stalls for our tired horses.

I wasted no time at all. The innkeeper, a good, reputable man who remembered his tenants just as well as he knew his trade, informed me that a Master Fisk had, in fact, occupied a room at his inn a few weeks previous. For an extra gold roundel, he told me that Fisk hadn't returned one night and had even left his things unpacked in his room—things which I inherited for two more gold roundels.

Then Kathy asked about the next-door occupants, which took the innkeeper a little longer to remember. Those tenants had checked out of the establishment not a day after Fisk's disappearance. If Kathy's knowledge of Fisk's situation amounted to anything—which I knew it did—then I was willing to wager every brass fract I did not possess that Fisk's followers had caught up to him around this time.

The innkeeper also told me of the tavern where Fisk had been briefly employed. Though the information was more than I expected, I was caught off guard by Fisk's honorable position. A tavern? And here I thought my former squire had returned to a life of thievery!

"Thank you, Master Field," said Kathy politely, as we left to inspect Fisk's wares. He still carried the same pack he'd used during his travels with me. Inside, we found clean-cut doublets, a few lock picks, some hidden roundels, and many of Kathy's letters. My sister certainly brightened when she saw Fisk had kept them. Now 'twas my turn to roll my eyes.

Still, nothing Fisk carried gave us any more leads as to his current whereabouts. I now believed Fisk was in some sort of trouble. He never would have abandoned his goods without reason. His pursuers had surely apprehended him before he could get home from his shift at the tavern.

Now the only question was how would I proceed with this information?

Kathy appeared to be thinking the same thing. "What do we do now?" she asked.

I carried Fisk's things up the stairs and found our room. With every step I took, my hackles rose defensively, alerting me that my sensing Gift was tingling to life yet again. Quickly, I pushed Kathy inside the room. "I need you to stay here while I go out and search for any new leads."

"What?" Kathy blurted indignantly.

I held up my hands to keep the peace. "I know, I know, you want to help, but trust me this once. Whoever tracked Fisk down is obviously very skilled, for Fisk is far too clever to get himself captured, especially if he knew he was being followed. Now, I won't be gone long. Keep the door barred and the window bolted—"

"This is ridiculous. I'm coming with you."

Firmly, I gripped her shoulders and gave her the sternest look I could muster. "Listen, Kathy. I don't know what Fisk's pursuers want from him, but in all my experience, I know 'tis best if we give these villains less leverage to use against him—meaning your life. If Fisk cares about you like you think he does, then I will not risk your safety during this quest."

"Be careful, Michael. Your knight errant is showing."

I grinned like the blasted fool Fisk used to take me for. "I wouldn't have it any other way. If I uncover any new information, I'll return to tell you. Try not to leave the room, and do not open the door for anyone. Do you promise?"

"I promise," she replied gloomily. "But if you're not back by nightfall, all vows are off. I'll come after you."

I kissed her forehead in agreement and then made for the stairwell. I felt strangely light as I took to the streets in search of Fisk's old place of employment. The tavern was called The Windcatcher's Brew, and from the outside, it looked modestly reputable. Inside was no different. I could picture Fisk scrubbing the bar and keeping an eye out for any troublemakers just like the honest man I knew him to be. Fisk was fairly good at judging character. He just wasn't good at judging himself.

I spoke to the tavern owner, a man called Smithy, and found out very little. Apparently, Fisk had worked the night shifts for a solid few weeks and then had failed to return without giving notice. Master Smithy also knew seldom about Fisk's pursuers. In fact, he hadn't even known Fisk was being followed, although an uncertain gleam flashed through his eyes when he mentioned this.

Naturally, this got me interested. "You look as if you know something else," I prompted, doing my best to imitate Fisk's polished method of speaking.

The barkeep shrugged. "If I tell ya, you best keep yer mouth shut. The last thing I need is trouble in my pub…"

As it turned out, men of all standings seemed to go missing in Havenport from time to time. Rumor had it that the city's wealthiest trader, a man by the name of Alaric Pierce, hired thugs to track down any townspeople who crossed him. According to the perspiring barkeep, some were never seen again.

When I asked why none of the sheriffs or judicars intervened on such shadiness, Smithy replied with an answer I should have expected. Like the Rose, this Master Pierce ruled his town by paying off the law and taking justice into his own hands. I shivered at the resemblance, for I knew what such power-hungry men were capable of.

And if Fisk had somehow offended this man, then 'twas certain he was in terrible danger. Cold dread washed over me as I thanked Fisk's old employer and left the pub.

It seemed as if the next best possible plan would be to hunt down this Pierce, but because I knew nothing of Havenport or its people, I couldn't very well go snooping around for such a notorious leader. The man likely had eyes and ears all over the city, and unless I wanted to cross his hired thugs—without a sword, mind, for I had forgotten mine at the inn—I'd best continue my search the old-fashioned way: by keeping my own eyes and ears open for any helpful hints.

As I hunted, I doubted Smithy's theory. If Fisk had chosen to work an honest living as a barkeep, why would he see the need to con Pierce? I assumed if my old squire was involved, 'twould be through some underhanded thievery, but I doubted very much that Fisk would see any need for getting on the wrong side of such a man after nearly escaping death by the Rose's hand. After all, Fisk had enough of the Rose's blood money to supplement his needs. He would never con just for the thrill of it. 'Twould be too dangerous.

But then again, did I even know Fisk anymore? Kathy believed I did, but I couldn't be so sure.

_I'm not your poxy squire. _Would those words ever stop chanting inside my head?

As dusk set in, I began to feel discouraged. The merchants, for all their wealth and prosperity, participated in little gossip. Mayhap this Pierce controlled their tongues just as much as he controlled their welfare? Then again, a man who was rumored to hunt down townspeople and make them disappear would easily be able to eliminate such riffraff, probably with help from his hired brutes.

Dismally, I wandered through the market, my eyes peeled for any hints, but because it was nearing nightfall, I supposed I should call it a day and purchase some food for me and Kathy to share. I would start my search afresh in the morning with new confidence.

I was examining a produce merchant's selection of pears when all of a sudden, a fumbling mass appeared out of the corner of my eye and upset the canopy holding the delicious produce. Next thing I knew, hundreds of pears toppled to the cobblestone street and rolled this way and that around my feet. The merchant cursed profusely while I quickly dropped to my knees and began collecting the pears before they were trampled by pedestrians.

Above head, the klutzy bystander muttered apologies under his breath over and over again, as if depleting a merchant of his prized wares was the worst sin ever committed. Apparently the merchant thought so, for he began calculating the amount owed to him for his damaged fruit.

Many pairs of feet stopped around me as I tried to salvage the pears, but when I stood up, my eyes linked with only one man's.

"I'm so sorry," he said directly to me. I had never seen such sincerity in his eyes before. Or fear. The fear was new.

Even his voice seeped with honesty, as if those three little words held so much more meaning than any onlooker would suppose. But I heard it. I understood. My thoughts seemed to pause and race all at once.

"Fi—" But one look from him stopped me. I knew that look.

_Don't bring attention to us, Noble Sir. Or we're both dead._

All I could do was gape. I nearly dropped the pears in my arms. Our stares never broke, but Fisk's severe glare seemed to crack down the middle, and new worry sank in. His eyes were encircled with shadows, and his skin was so sallow that it made his cheeks look more sunken than they were. He wore unfamiliar clothes and an expression that confirmed his desperation. Something wasn't right. Something that only a harsh strike to the head from a stranger's hand could make me understand.

Fisk winced at the sudden blow and almost lost his balance. His knees buckled, whether out of fright or pain, but he maintained silence, even when he blinked, teary-eyed, up at me.

Horrified, I followed the offender's hand up the length of his arm until I laid eyes on his face. Though fury broke out inside me, I had to remain calm, for I had a good guess as to who this man was, as well as the ugly-faced ruffians surrounding him.

"My apologies, kind sir," the man who had struck Fisk said to me. He placed both his hands atop Fisk's shoulders as if my old squire was a possession he would hate to misplace. "My servant here is infamous for his clumsiness. If not for his face, you could mistake him for one of the simple ones. I hope his negligence hasn't inconvenienced you."

It took me a moment to answer, for unlike Fisk, I'm terrible at hiding what I'm really feeling. I swallowed my anger forcefully down and shook my head. "Not at all," I croaked.

"I assure you, he will be duly punished for his inelegance. Isn't that right, boy?"

I didn't think he intended for it, but Fisk's chin began to tremble.

"Peko, pay the merchant off for his spoiled wares. I'd hate for a food shortage to arise because of such an accident. Come along, Nonopherian. Let's get you home before you can do any more damage."

He pushed Fisk so hard that once again, my squire nearly lost his footing. If not for the quick, calloused hands of two brutes, his face would have collided with the cobblestone. Peculiarly enough, no one in the market, not even the fruit merchant, watched the terrible scene play out. In fact, the shoppers parted like waves so that Pierce, Fisk, and his men could storm off without breaking stride.

It hurt to breathe. Anger and injustice prodded like thorns in my chest as I considered what I had just witnessed. Then, when I assumed it was safe to turn around, I scanned the market for Fisk and his kidnappers. The moment my eyes locked on them, I set after them at a brisk pace. I could not lose them.

'Twas funny how moments ago, I hated Fisk for his desertion. Now, I wanted nothing more than to commit murder—a notion that has only ever occurred to me once, and over my last encounter with Lady Ceciel. Back then, Fisk had saved me from her torture and her treachery. Now, I would do the same for Fisk.

I followed Pierce as night crept over Havenport and darkness hid my presence from sight.


	7. Fisk 4

**Chapter Seven: Fisk**

Michael was in Havenport.

How could this have happened? I abandoned him in Tallowsport, and I had not looked back once. While I had clearly left behind a trail since Pierce had found me so easily, I highly doubted that Michael had followed me. Not when so much time had passed since our departure. Not when he surely hated me more than any other person in the realm.

But despite all these things, Michael was in Havenport.

I had to talk to him. I had to tell him how sorry I was.

I used to pride myself in rational thought, yet as soon as these words entered my mind, I was already 'stumbling' into the fruit stand. It was stupid and rash and basically everything I used to scold Michael for, but I was already in the process before logic could catch up with my instincts. Pears and apples scattered across the market, and the food seller sounded as if he would have a heart attack as he sputtered out curses and demands for compensations, but I barely noticed.

I muttered apologies and scooped up fallen fruit as I made my way over to Michael as casually as I possibly could while blood roared in my ears. My hands shook as I knelt down where Michael was already picking up pears like the noble knight he was.

"I'm so sorry."

The words weren't much, but they were all I could manage under these conditions. Michael lifted his head, and our eyes met, and I knew he understood the message.

I'm so sorry… for everything.

Of course, I had forgotten how Michael couldn't be subtle to save his life. He started to open his mouth, and I widened my eyes in a clear message of silence. My heart beat frantically in anticipation, but thankfully, he stopped what he was saying. Now new pain drummed in my heart, for Michael could never hide his emotions either, and I could only imagine what I looked like to render that kind of anger and pity in his eyes.

My humiliation only grew worse when Pierce struck me, and I nearly fell. Jack had taught me to never show true weakness, but instead a reflection of whatever weakness would further my con. This wasn't a con, at least not in the nature we took part in, but it didn't matter anyway. I did not have the energy or strength of will to fight the pain that likely showed on my face.

I barely heard what Pierce was saying, but I understood his meaning quite well. Then he shoved me again, and two guards stepped forward to take hold of my arms, and my stomach turned unpleasantly. I was thankful I didn't have to see Michael's expression as they marched me away. It hurt enough to know that any image he once had of me was now deteriorating away. I must have looked so weak, pathetic, disgusting…

Was it worth it?

I wondered this as my guards tightened their hold on my arms and marched me to Pierce's mansion. Their fingers curled into my flesh, and I knew there would be bruises. However, that would clearly be the least of my problems judging by the expression on Pierce's face. He looked as if he wanted to beat me within an inch of death with his bare hands, and I wasn't completely confident that he wouldn't.

He moved slightly ahead of the rest of us, and in the growing darkness, his tall and lithe form looked like a grim reaper on the way to steal souls. His back hunched forward in his hurry to reach his household, and fear plagued my heart when I considered why.

My body trembled, and I could not even blame the night air, for the nearby waters made the atmosphere humid and sticky. I knew what was coming. I knew very well what awaited me in that basement. My fate was bad enough when I didn't provide a clear map to Jack's whereabouts, but after the incident with the fruit stand, I'd be lucky to ever see the light of day again.

Was it worth it? Yes. Even knowing the consequences, I was glad that I could tell Michael I was sorry. I didn't know why, but I was lucky to have the chance.

We reached the large mansion, and with a sharp nod of Pierce's head, the guards pulled me past the fine décor and into the kitchen. One jerked open the door, and the other practically pushed me down the steps, his hand still wrapped tightly around my arm. When we reached the bottom, the guard threw me against the stone wall and began chaining my wrists above my head. My pulse beat in a rapid and unsteady rhythm at returning to the familiar position though I had not expected any less.

Then the situation took a turn I had not anticipated. The hired hand pulled out a small pill from his trousers pocket, the kind high-class herbalists use when they need to make their herbs more susceptible to travel. I struggled as hard as I could, but he forced my jaw open and held my nose until I swallowed it. The pill slid down my throat like a death sentence.

When he finished, the brute ascended the steps, and they both shut the door behind them. Neither had thought to light the lamp, so I was in complete and total darkness. Cold started to leech through my clothes, skin, and into my very blood. Despair threatened to follow.

Was it poison? Somehow, I doubted it. Though I knew Pierce would kill me if I no longer proved useful, a quick and easy death didn't seem like his style. He'd beat me to death before he'd waste precious herbs on me. My body felt weak and tired, but that was not the pill's effects. My thoughts still seemed rational though I supposed I wasn't the best judge of that. Either way, I would discover the pill's purpose soon enough.

I leaned back against the damp stone wall and tried not to think, but after what I had witnessed in one day, this proved impossible.

Michael was in Havenport. As for Jack, I doubted he stowed away on a ship. He always said circumstances around ports and ships were too unsteady to involve them in a con. However, Peko's testimony about the multiple herbalists seemed promising. If they really were sending carts of herbs out to other town on a regular basis… Michael was in Havenport. No, focus, the carts. Jack could have sneaked away on one of those. Maybe even paid one off to keep quiet. This was more his style, even likely. Michael was in Havenport.

As much as I hated myself for it, a hope began to rise unbidden in my chest. I should not have dared think such a thing, but the selfish thought continued to cut ruthlessly through my musings. Michael was in Havenport. Michael could help me.

I did not deserve his help, not after I left him. I still felt like I did the right thing to separate myself from him, for I had my reasons then. Nevertheless, that meant I could not ask for his help now. He had no obligation toward me whatsoever. I would have to figure my way out on my own.

Still, I knew how hopelessly noble he was, and there was no way Michael would leave me behind, not after what he had just witnessed. Then again… perhaps he would. He likely hated me for abandoning him so cruelly… But he wouldn't let Pierce remain at large when he was clearly up to something dirty and underhanded. Michael would at least turn Pierce in to the authorities, and then I would be freed in the process. Was I the worst kind of person for hoping for such a thing? Did I truly care?

My thoughts started to lose their proper shapes, becoming flimsy and lucid. I wondered vaguely why Michael was in Havenport in the first place. Had he gotten lost? Surely, he would not have searched for me…

Perhaps it was the darkness playing with my mind now. I started to imagine monsters in the corners, and I had not dreamed of those for some years. I shifted my hands, and the rattle of chains seemed to echo in the torture chamber.

It suddenly occurred to me that if I died here, my sisters might never realize. Perhaps that was best. They would go on with their lives as they always had… without a single thought of me… or my fate… never knowing… where I… ended up…

I was drifting. Or falling. I didn't know anymore.

…

My eyes felt heavy and raw as I opened them, and pain jolted through my joints. I tried to lift my arms, but they weighed more than I remembered, and I heard metal rattling. I thought it was a dream at first, a nightmare. I wanted it to be a nightmare.

I was on the table again, but this time my wrists and ankles were chained at the four corners. While my trousers remained, my shirt was gone. My chest looked pale, small, vulnerable in the dim lighting. As I turned my head in an attempt to better assess the situation, a groan escaped my lips. The darkness, broken only by a faraway lantern, rendered my sight pathetic, but I could smell the acrid, sooty scent of smoke.

"I am afraid your time is almost up," a voice hissed. Only Pierce could sound like the very incarnation of evil.

"I've only had one day," I pleaded. My voice cracked, and it sounded raspier than I expected. How long had I been unconscious?

I heard footsteps, and I knew he was coming closer, but I could only see a glimpse of his shadow. My skin crawled. "One of my clients has already informed me that he will no longer be needing my services. What do you think that means, Master Fisk?"

Fear made it hard to think, but the thought of what he might do if I didn't answer motivated me. "He… doesn't need what you used to sell him. Jack stole it… and is selling it to your clients instead?" I managed.

"The potion, you idiot!" Pierce exploded. His voice was right at my head, and I flinched, pulling on the chains. "Or rather… the formula for the potion. I was the only one in the United Realm with the formula, and I sold it to the herbalists for a specialized fee. The herbalists distributed it to the working class… I funded this entire port! And what kind of thanks do I get? Any loyalty at all? No! The moment they can, the rats abandon me and try to make a few brass fracts for themselves…"

I used to call Michael a lunatic, and I still stood by that sentiment. But this… this was true insanity. Madness born from greed and delusions of superiority.

It took a moment to weed through his ramblings, but a clear picture started to form in my mind. All the herbalists in town… Pierce sold a certain potion to them, a potion only he knew the formula for. Then the herbalists distributed the potion to the rest of the town, and somehow, this was the source of Havenport's wealth. Jack must have stolen the formula…

But why would Jack sell the formula in a town where there was already a provider? That was a sure way to get caught, and he wasn't stupid enough to stay in Havenport. Then again…

"Only one herbalist has dropped your services?" I questioned tentatively. I avoided the insane with everything in my power, but chained in place, I had little choice.

"One is enough! Perhaps the others are too terrified of me as they should be, but it's only a matter of time. Damn Bannister… This is all his fault. When I find him…"

I could imagine what Pierce would do if he ever found Jack, and though his words chilled me to the bone, they had accomplished my purpose. Only one herbalist dropped Pierce, so Jack had only given the formula to one herbalist… Perhaps as payment for safe passage in one of the carts to another town? If I had the ability to talk to him, I was sure I could find out where Jack had gone.

I… I had the power to end this. If I told him now, Pierce would release me… But could I sacrifice Jack? No, no, I wouldn't do that. I could still get out of this situation on my own power alone.

"Of course, none of this is significant at the moment. We have more immediate matters to take care of, don't we?"

Pierce's tone suddenly shifted from wild and chaotic to cold and collected, and I almost yearned for the former. Light suddenly flooded the room as one of the men-at-arms lit five lanterns all surrounding the table. Pierce stood right next to me, and he held a glass bottle and an unlit torch.

"I don't know what you mean," I stammered. "I would think the most significant matter would be your threatened economy."

"Oh, it is," Pierce assured me. "And right now, the most immediate threat to my economy is you."

I gaped, my mouth wide open, and it took a few moments before I could manage to say anything. "What do you mean? I am literally chained in your basement! How could I possibly threaten you? You brought me here to help you!"

"And that is why you have been such a disappointment," Pierce mourned. He uncorked the bottle and poured a slick, slimy liquid across my chest. My muscles tensed at the unfamiliar feeling, and cold apprehension slithered down my neck. I recognized the scent. Oil.

I shifted in my chains uneasily, and I could not have hidden the fear on my face if I tried.

Pierce lit his torch, and the flames cast demonic hues on his features. "In the market today," Pierce opened casually as if he was starting a conversation rather than torture. "Did you happen to recognize anyone? I don't suppose… you tried to contact anyone?"

"What?" I exclaimed. My voice cracked. "I don't know a soul in this town! Besides, even if I did, everyone here is your man!"

"Hmm… that's true," Pierce agreed. I started to relax, but then his eyes flashed. "However, I don't take well to any form of lying." He lowered the torch, and my eyes widened in horror. I struggled with all my power, but the chains could not be broken. Still, I fought and twisted and pushed as far from the torch as I could. Pierce only grinned as he continued his path to my flesh. As soon as the flames touched the oil, my entire chest erupted into an inferno.

The heat consumed me immediately, and I panted heavily, and yet… While my flesh seemed to be cooking, it was not curling into a grotesque burn. My eyes flickered up to Pierce's face who watched me with satisfaction.

"Right now, the fire only burns the oil. You may experience discomfort but not true pain. However… once the oil is burned up, the fire resorts to what's left. Do you understand?"

He was going to burn me alive. The knowledge entered my mind with cold clarity, and it suddenly struck me how very helpless I was. Chain wrapped around my wrist… Trapped in a basement… There was literally nothing I could do to get out of this situation.

I used to think I was an independent person, always working on my own. Only then did I realize how wrong I was. Starting out, my confidence in my cons came from one person: Jack. He taught me the right techniques, showed me how… He gave me a way of life. Even when he taught me not to rely on anyone, I still relied on him. Then he showed me the consequences of that mistake as well.

I thought I had learned, but Michael was hardly any different. We got into pretty tight situations, and while I had been afraid at the time, deep down I knew we could figure it out together. He would never give up on a friend.

Now…

In one swift night at Tallowsport, I scared Jack away for good, and I ensured that Michael would hate me for eternity. Even if Michael was in Havenport, he would bring down Pierce because that's the kind of man he was, but it would be too late to me.

Sweat beaded on my forehead and arms, and even though the pain wasn't intense enough for the oil to be completely burned, I could feel the sting of the flames. Panic rose up in my heart, but moving would only make the fire worse.

"Now Nonopherian, don't you have something to tell me?" Pierce taunted. He lifted a bucket of what could only be water so that I could see. The immediate alternation of fire and cold water would send my body into shock, but it would at least save me from burning alive. There was still a way I could save myself…

_Michael Sevenson! He'll bring you down if you don't capture him now!_

It would be so easy. I could prove that I was still my own person, and I only had to open my mouth and form those words… But who was I fooling? I would never do it.

I kept my lips pressed tight together even as the first agonizing flames started to brush against my bare skin. I resigned myself to my fate.


	8. Michael 4

**Chapter Eight: Michael**

Not even the shadows of the night kept me from keeping my eyes fixed on Pierce and his men. Burning torches lit the crisscrossing streets of Havenport, aiding me in my pursuit. The men walked fast, and with direct purpose. I had little doubt that they would take me exactly where I wanted to go, for Fisk traveled with them, and he was quite the sight I'd ever seen.

Even on our worst days, when funds were scarce and means of work scarcer, Fisk had never looked as starved as he did tonight. No doubt his captors kept him in such a miserable state, but for what reason? Surely Fisk wouldn't be daft enough to singlehandedly con a man with enough wealth to hire a small brigade of muscle men? No, my old squire's imprisonment had to do with something else entirely. My sensing Gift confirmed it.

I followed at a smart distance, for 'twould not do me any good to get caught now. Pure fury kept my fear at bay, as well. Watching Fisk slapped and shoved in the market square had ignited a small fire in the center of my soul, and it burned brighter when thoughts of revenge crossed my mind. A second sensation coursed through my veins along with it, but I tried to pay it no mind. The monstrous effects of Lady Ceciel's potion needn't come to light unless I desperately needed them, which I hoped would be never.

Then again, Fisk looked to be in quite the predicament. I doubted even his rogue's tongue could get him out of this mess, which left me, the knight errant, to do the saving. Mayhap I should have minded, but 'twas not in me to refuse a helping hand to anyone, not even ex-squires. If anything, I wanted to throw down this Master Pierce for laying brutal hands on the good men of Havenport.

Pierce and his brutes led me to an elaborate mansion on the far side of town. Brick walls surrounded the yard, and an iron-spired gate appeared to be the only way in—at least from the front.

Tucked safely behind a rosebush across the road, I watched Pierce's men drag Fisk through the gate and out of my sight.

My heart beat loud enough to putter in my ears. I could only imagine where Pierce would keep a captive inside such a beautiful house, but every mansion held its secret passageways, and since the house had no windowless towers, I assumed Fisk was being held somewhere underground.

My biggest fear was that I had given myself away back at the fruit stand. Although Pierce gave off no air of misgiving, my failure at subtlety may have raised a red flag to his suspicions. If Pierce moved Fisk from his mansion without my knowledge, then I probably would never find him again, so I spied on Pierce's residence for about an hour, doing what Fisk would have done: I circled the property's perimeter and made mental notes on the number of guards stationed at each point on the wall. Behind the house, I found a less ornate gate, which I figured I could scale if no guard noticed.

I needed a plan, and fast. There was no telling what Pierce was doing to Fisk now, and every second of sitting idle caused a rising panic to swell inside my chest. It spiked even higher when a hand landed on my shoulder and squeezed tightly.

I whirled with a startled shout, expecting to find the ugly mug of a brute in my face, and laid eyes on my sister instead. "Kathy!" I whispered loudly. "Horn and hoof! What are you doing here? I told you to stay at the inn!"

"And I told you that I would come looking for you after dark! I've been all over town trying to find you!" she hissed as I steered her quickly out from behind the rosebush. If any of the guards had heard my shout… "What are you doing hiding in a bush anyway? And where have you been all day? Did you find anything that can help us?"

I threw Kathy a look that said _shut-up. _I supposed none of the Sevensons were masters of discretion. Once I pulled her down a secluded side street, I said, "You shouldn't be here, Kathy. 'Tis much too dangerous."

"Dangerous?" Kathy's eyes grew round. "So you _did _find something out in town today!"

I couldn't deny her. Under cover of darkness, I told her everything I'd discovered, including running into Fisk in the market square. When I told her of his predicament, her pretty brown eyes expanded twice their normal size, and her trembling fingertips brushed her lips as she tried to come to terms with the unfortunate truth. "How did he look when you saw him?" she asked quietly.

"Not well, I'm afraid. But we know where he is now, and I won't rest until I free him from Pierce's clutches."

Kathy nodded approvingly. "I don't care what you say, I'm coming with you."

"Kathy, no. I couldn't let you. 'Twould be too dangerous!"

To that, my sister unstrapped a buckle around her chest and thrust something long and covered into my arms. "Dangerous quests be damned! I'm coming. And I don't think you'd get far without your sword, Master Knight, and you can thank me for bringing it to you!"

I fumbled with the hilt, truly impressed that she'd been strong enough to carry the burdensome blade across town. I had to give Kathy some credit. She was tough, but she was still my baby sister… "It'll be hard enough breaking into Pierce's house alone. I doubt I could manage it protecting you, too."

"If Fisk were here, you'd take him with you!" she argued.

"Yes, but he was my squire—"

"Root and branch! I'm not letting you break into a kidnapper's lair alone! Just think of me as your temporary squire until we break Fisk out. What say you to that, Noble Sir?"

It seemed Fisk had revealed a number of things in his letters, including annoying nicknames. I made a mental note to scold my ex-squire for his loud mouth later, but now was the moment to decide what to do about my sister. 'Twas clear that even if I forced her to stay behind, she would still follow me into Pierce's house, and probably get us both caught in the process. I sighed with resignation. "Fine. But you will do everything I say no matter the circumstances. If I tell you to run, you run. If I tell you to leave me behind—"

"You really are too noble for your own good," said Kathy with a roguish smile. Damn it all, she even reminded me of Fisk! "But I understand. Now, tell me more of this plan you've been concocting. Surely you have one."

I did, but I didn't like it. In fact, the thought of carrying through with it frightened me to the bone. Quietly, I led Kathy back to the rosebush. The guards at the wall looked bored to tears, which led me to believe that no sane man had ever tried breaking into Pierce's house. 'Twas a good thing I was far from sane.

The back gate was lit with torches flickering on the back wall of the house. No doubt they brightened the servants' privy, also, which stood just outside the kitchen door. In a few hours, all the housemaids and kitchen boys would go to bed, but I couldn't wait for such a late hour. I had to act fast, which meant performing yet another act of lunacy.

I took a deep breath and averted my eyes to my toes.

"Michael, what's wrong?" Kathy whispered.

What was wrong? A thousand things, some too ghastly to explain. "I just don't want what you're about to see change your opinion of me," I replied faintly.

My sister raised her eyebrows curiously. Out of all my siblings, Kathy had always been the least judgmental, especially with regard to my knight errantry, and I didn't want that to change. If she came to think the same things as our mother or father, or even our older brothers, then I would truly have no one. I would be alone.

"What are you going to do?" she asked tentatively.

I made sure my sword was buckled securely at my side before taking another resigned breath. "Just watch," I said, and then directed my full concentration to a wavering torch on the far side of Pierce's yard.

My inner fury helped, as did my panic. In time's past, it had always been fright that sparked my magic to life, and it worked now, for silent dread for Fisk's well-being filled me like wine from an overflowing chalice. I wanted him to be safe mayhap more than I wanted justice for Pierce, or any of the villains we'd faced in the past. All I had to do was think of Pierce striking Fisk across the head in the crowded market square, and my wrath was unleashed.

'Twas easy, like striking a match. All of a sudden, an inferno of flames grew out of the single torch and roared down on the grass lawn just beyond the garden, and all because I willed it. Next thing I knew, tendrils of smoke blew out of the cackling sparks and even reached the top tier of the brick wall. Immediately, the guards at their posts bellowed out cries of alarm. From somewhere, I heard one scream for someone to find a bucket.

We would never get another chance. I grabbed Kathy's hand without looking at her face and pulled her toward the gate. The image of Pierce shoving Fisk to the cobblestone reared its ugly face in my memory, and the lock on the gate gave way with a loud _crack_. Because of the choking smoke, no one noticed a knight and his temporary squire rush up the walkway, around the privy cabins, and down a shadowy path alongside the mansion.

Frantic cries sounded behind us, but Kathy and I were safe. I knew Fisk would think my plan had succeeded too easily, but getting past the guards _was _the easy part. 'Twas entering the wolf's den that would be the real challenge. But first, I had to face my sister.

She gaped at me like a fish out of water. "What the blazes was that?"

"A quite literal reaction if I ever heard one," I chided uneasily. Truth was, my insides burned red-hot with humiliation. "Actually, I'm surprised Fisk never told you what I am now. Do you remember Lady Ceciel, the fugitive I accidentally freed from Sorrowston Tower?"

"Who could forget?" said Kathy exasperatedly.

"Well, that's just it. She fed me some potions when I was in her captivity, and her experimenting gave me new Gifts. There's no time to explain them now, but for once, they may actually prove useful."

Kathy appeared to have a thousand questions, but she, like I, remembered our current mission. We didn't have much time before Pierce's guards doused the flames, and I wanted to be long gone with Fisk in our company before then. Together, Kathy and I tried every window on the side of the house until one opened on unlocked hinges.

I made sure the room was clear before helping Kathy over the sill. 'Twas dark inside, but once our eyes adjusted to the dimness, 'twas clear that we'd broken into a small library. Dust quite literally hung in the air, so I supposed no servant, or even Pierce for that matter, would happen upon us in here. I wished I knew the layout of the house, but as I had little time to do any research, I would have to place full confidence in my sensing Gifts.

That, and Kathy's explosive instincts.

Without even checking for guards, she stormed into the corridor and began opening doors in search of Fisk. In all my years of foolish expeditions, I had never been so careless. Well, maybe I had, but still... Quickly, I grabbed her arm and whispered, "What under the green moon do you think you're doing, squire?"

"Searching. I have a bad feeling about this place. And Fisk is close. I can sense it…"

"Well, we can't go barreling into each room without caution! This mansion will be crawling with patrols, and we won't be helping Fisk if Pierce catches us, too."

My words must have carried enough common sense because Kathy suddenly appeared a bit more level-headed. She nodded in apology and followed closely behind me as we crept down the hall.

I could smell smoke, so I followed the scent. Mayhap the fire would cause everyone to evacuate the mansion, including Fisk, and I could intercept him on the way out? If not, then I could at least follow the tug of my sensing Gift. It practically pulled me past the parlor and through the dining room on the way to the kitchen.

In the outer hall, I heard the quick pounds of footsteps and voices crying out for extra hands to come to the yard at once. I caught sight of the fire burning outside one of the dining room windows, and it only took one blink for me to raise the flames ten times higher. I was a monster, but at least my atrocious schemes granted us a few more lonely seconds to wander Pierce's rooms. Kathy called Fisk's name as loud as she dared, and I kept my hand on the hilt of my sword in preparation for the worst. Thankfully, all of Pierce's men were in the yard and had not run into us. Yet...

Sweat rolled down my back at each corner Kathy and I turned. Pierce's mansion was ten times bigger than Father's, and evidently, Pierce was also wealthier, and he liked to show it off through his physical possessions. I had never seen such luxuries: priceless vases, imported rugs, elaborate tapestries… Mayhap Fisk had learned of these treasures and had tried to pinch them off Pierce?

This I doubted, for Fisk is a deceitful man, but he's not a criminal. Not anymore…

But what did I know?

"Where could he be?" Kathy whispered, and her desperation leaked out through the strain in her voice.

I tried to reassure her with a calm look, but I knew she saw the panic in my own eyes. Rather than answering, I called Fisk's name over and over until my voice grew hoarse from loud-whispering. Then we made our way into the kitchen, and the resulting sensation deep within my gut felt like a hook snared behind my navel. I had never felt so reliant on my sensing Gift, nor so sure that it was leading me exactly where I needed to go.

But Fisk was nowhere in sight. The kitchen was large and rather industrial, and it didn't help my nerves that the back door hung open. A trail of water puddles leading out into the yard confirmed why. No doubt servants were running in and out through that very door trying to contain the flames with all the wet rags and buckets of water they could manage. None of Pierce's men appeared, but I still felt uneasy.

And I still saw no evidence that Fisk was near, unless Pierce had stuffed him inside one of the storage cupboards…

"We have to hurry. Do you see anything? Any sign that Fisk was here, or could still be here?" I demanded of Kathy. But when I turned to face my sister, I felt all the breath leave my lungs. She bore the shocked expression of someone who'd just been stabbed in the back; all the blood had leaked from her face and her usual rosy lips were whiter than silkworms. She stood stone still. I rushed forward and grabbed her by the shoulders. "Kathy, what is it?" I practically shouted.

"That scream…" she said dazedly. "Don't you hear it?"

"Screaming?" I licked my lips and tasted sweat. "What screaming? The screaming outside?"

Kathy shook from her reverie and replaced her look of horror with one of rigid determination. She began throwing open pantry doors, feeling edges of the walls, even beating the wood planks in the ground with her fists. "Fisk?" she screamed full out, and I flinched against the pitch of her voice. Was the irritation I felt toward Kathy in this current moment the same irritation Fisk felt when he used to travel with me? No wonder he'd left me high and dry…

But then I peeled my ears and listened. For a moment, I'd believed my sister had gone insane with panic. Now I heard what she heard, and it turned my blood ice cold.

Screaming. Bloodcurdling, high-pitched, nonsensical screaming.

Fisk's screaming.

"Fisk!" I shouted above the roar of the flames outside. I didn't care if I was caught now. Guards could storm in armed with swords and daggers, but I would overpower them with my rage alone! While Kathy searched for hidden latches in the wall, I dropped to my knees and ran my fingers over the floorboards in hunt for any handle or lever. 'Twas clear Fisk's shouts came from somewhere within the kitchen, but not inside it…

"Nothing!" Kathy screamed frantically, and dropped to my side to help me look. Our hands landed on a wooden latch hidden between the planks at the exact same time. We looked at each other wildly.

"Stay behind me," I ordered. Even Kathy knew there was no room for compromise. She held my shoulders as I pulled the latch with all my strength. A large, rectangular door lifted and revealed a basement far under the ground. Steep, splintery steps descended into the deep, but Fisk's screams ascended, as did the raw, nauseating stench of burning flesh…

I didn't bother with the stairs. I leapt to the basement floor with little regard for the danger and set eyes on the worst sight imaginable. I recalled at least ten nightmares more pleasant than the scene before me: Fire, and lots of it, burning a man chained to a stone pyre. Smoke curled in deathly ribbons above his body as he screamed bloody murder and thrashed under the flames' dancing embrace.

"No!" I screamed, and the resounding boom from my outburst shook the basement and rattled the chains and other torturous instruments hanging from the rafters.

Behind me, Kathy shrieked in horror. She would have bolted past me if I hadn't thrown my arm out to stop her. Then in a mad rush, I cast my other hand out toward the flames. In an instant, the embers soared off Fisk's chest and into the shapes lumbering in the shadows. Men cried out as the flames switched course to lick the clothes off their backs.

Chaos ensued. The screaming would have made my ears bleed if I wasn't already so enraged. On the table, Fisk writhed and cried through the pain singing his flesh. He did not notice me, not even when I bolted to his side and conducted a quick analysis of his physical state.

I wanted to gag. Blistered skin sizzled on his chest and caused bubbles of blood to rise up from the welts, but 'twas not as bad as it could have been. I had to reassure myself of that thought through my panic. Salve… I needed magica salve.

That was when I noticed Kathy crouching at the head of the "pyre," holding Fisk's shoulders and trembling down to her toes. Her head was bent low over his face, her hair a protective curtain around him, and I almost suspected she was whispering rapid, comforting words into his ear. She paid no mind to the smell of burning flesh. All that mattered to her was calming Fisk down... Diverting his pain by the sound of her voice...

Then I noticed a few crooked shelves bolted to the wall behind her. Most of the instruments strewn across them were tools of torture, but a couple of the bottles looked promising. "Kathy, find me some magica salve! Behind you. Now!" I shouted.

My sister spared no moment for questions, bless her soul. She threw herself past the brutes swatting madly at their burning sleeves and began looking for the medicine I required. Then I noticed a slithery form rise from under Fisk's table. His dangerous eyes met mine and I recognized him without a second's delay. With a yell of fury, I leapt over the table, drew my sword, slammed the man against the wall, and shoved my blade against his vulnerable throat.

"You," I hissed. 'Twas my voice, but it sounded more like a demon's, even in my own ears. "Master Pierce, is it? Your reputation is infamous among the people of Havenport as a man who supplies the town with exceptional wealth, but harms those who step one toe out of line. I will not let you get away with this. Justice will be done and you will pay for your crimes."

Unfortunately, Pierce did not look threatened by my vengeful words. Rather, he looked deranged with amusement. Heat flickered in his eyes, or mayhap that was the reflection of the fire leaping off his brutes. He licked his front teeth delightedly. "Michael Sevenson. Oh yes, I've heard a tale or two about you. The _knight errant._ I knew it had to be you whom poor, pathetic Nonopherian communicated with in town this evening. As you can see, he's in the middle of paying for that little _sin._"

Seething, I pressed my blade deeper into his flesh, allowing one dot of blood to slide down his throat. I had never been so desirous to end a man's life before. Mayhap this was how eager the orphans in Tallowsport had been to kill the Rose…

Pierce laughed like the maniac I believed him to be. "Your Gifts truly are impressive, you know. I hardly dodged your fiery spell. I suppose her ladyship was wrong when she told me about her failed experiment with you. She'll be so glad to learn that you weren't a disappointment after all!"

The frozen blood in my veins cracked like melting ice. "What?" I whispered, horrified. "You mean—"

"Lady Ceciel. Yes. The secret behind my economic success. Buying the formula for her magica potions has granted me more wealth than the kings of old, and now that I know it is possible to create more than a non-permanent formula, it won't be long before my herbalists master a draft capable of mimicking the strength of your Gifts."

I couldn't move. The horror of Pierce's revelation stunned me to the core. Selling magica potions...to mankind? 'Twas devilish! I tried to speak, but my tongue felt too heavy. I swallowed thickly, doing my best to keep a clear head. "'Tis foolish to reveal one's economic secrets to a stranger," I said dryly.

"Well, yes," Pierce agreed thoughtfully. "But in another sense, not really. Not now that I have you in a place where you can never escape."

I squeezed Pierce's shoulder and nicked him once more with my blade to remind him that I was in control of this situation. That was when I noticed Pierce staring over my own shoulder. A whimper of pain cut through the basement, and 'twas not Pierce's, nor Fisk's pained moans. I glanced slowly back.

A massive thug the size of me, Pierce, and Fisk combined had his brutish arms wrapped around my sister. He clasped her mouth with one hand and held her body in the other. Her eyes shone wide with fury and terror.

"He will snap her like a twig if you kill me, Sir Knight. And then he will silence Nonopherian's wailing before you have time to turn around."

I stared at Kathy and then glanced down at Fisk, who was still too delirious with pain to understand anything happening around him. My sister… My old squire… My stomach felt weighted down with stones. What could I do? Bargaining… It usually worked for Fisk.

"And if I let you live?" I asked lowly. "What then?"

Pierce smiled at me almost lustfully. "You're the only known man in the realm to have powers that rival a Savant's. As the realm's leading trader of magica potions, naturally I am intrigued by your permanent powers. Allow me to study you. Learn from you. 'Tis a simple proposition."

"And you will let Fisk and Kathy go free in exchange for keeping me for your _studies_?"

"Why not?" He inclined his head as if he had nothing to lose. "I hardly need them when I have the solution to my troubles within my reach..."

The brute's hand even came away from Kathy's mouth to show me Pierce meant business, and with her sudden freedom, Kathy yelled, "Michael, don't be an idiot—"

But 'twas too late. My panic at seeing those I loved on the cusp of death practically forced down my sword hand. Immediately, two new thugs, both with smoking sleeves, grabbed my arms and slammed my face into the wall with skull-cracking force. From behind me, Kathy screamed against what could only be the brute's hand closing over her mouth once again.

"Chain these two intruders up and then fetch me my operating kit," Pierce commanded his hired hands. He rubbed his bleeding throat as if the cut inconvenienced him more than it pained him.

"Wait, we had a deal!" I shouted as the thugs patted me down and stripped me of my sword.

Again, Pierce chuckled. "I never make deals with miscreants, Foolish Sir. And Nonopherian may prove useful to me yet. After all, he still has a special assignment to finish for me..."

The brutes forced my hands above my head as they locked irons around my wrists. Beside me, Kathy struggled as the biggest thug pried a small object from her hands: the bottle of magica salve. They then forced her into similar chains as mine, and when they backed out of the way, she gazed desperately down at Fisk, who was still squirming on the table. Her eyes filled with massive tears as she rattled the chains defiantly above her head.

I wanted to appeal to Gage on Fisk's behalf, but my eyes had strayed to the horrifying kit in Pierce's arms. It was filled with the crudest looking instruments I'd ever seen, even worse than the funnel Lady Ceciel had once forced down my throat. I saw scalpels, clamps, small saws, and picks. An operating kit…

Pierce gestured lazily at Fisk's twitching form. "Get him back in irons and clear the table for Master Sevenson. If I'm going to learn the secrets of his magical Gifts, 'tis necessary to study where they lay hidden… Deep inside him."


	9. Fisk 5

**Chapter Nine: Fisk**

I understood that something was happening around me that I needed to pay attention to, but that was the extent of my consciousness. The pain consumed me whole, enraptured me in its grotesque and disgusting embrace, and offered no room for any relief. Even once I recognized that, somehow, the fire was gone, I could barely breathe through the sticky, acrid mess that was my chest and lungs.

Michael's voice and a softer, angelic voice floated around my head, but I dismissed them as mere hallucinations in my time of weakness. My reality shifted in and out of focus, wavering and unreliable. As I twisted and moaned, I caught glimpses of the lantern light and dark figures, but nothing made sense, so I stopped trying.

My world was pain.

The pain became my world.

Even when someone unlocked the irons around my wrists and ankles, I barely noticed until they started to move me from the table. Every shift and slight strain on my abdominal muscles sent lightning bolts of agony threw my whole body, but whoever they were ignored my whimpers and cries and carried me away. I dropped to the floor, and my back hit the damp stone, and I faintly realized through the cloud in my head that I was back to where I had started. The clasp of the chains around my wrists was almost familiar, but the fiery, terrible heat in my chest from raising my arms above my head was new. Eventually, the pain ebbed as I held very still, but it still thrummed just below the surface.

"Fisk…? Fisk, sweetheart?"

There was that angelic voice again. It sounded familiar, but I couldn't understand why my subconscious wanted to torture me mentally as well as physically. I wasn't sure what was happening around me, but I had a feeling I would not be able to handle anything more.

"Fisk, you're going to have to focus, okay? I know it's hard. I know you're in pain. But we need you right now. If we're all going to get out of this, you're going to have to focus."

I had never been a huge fan of inspirational speeches. Michael seemed like the type to be fond of them, but Jack had always used motivation, pure and simple. Do it and do it right, or you're going to either get caught or starve. That had been inspiration enough.

"Fisk." A feminine sob. "Fisk."

I hadn't realized I'd been closing my eyes until I cracked them open. My sight slowly adjusted to the dim lantern lighting, but nothing made sense. Now there was another body on the table where I had just been. Unfortunately, I couldn't identify it clearly because Pierce and his brutes blocked my view.

"Fisk, can't you see? He needs you."

Finally, a pale imitation of my senses returned to me, and I recognized the voice as something outside my imagination. Even though the movement tugged at my chest and stoked the fire there, I turned my head and took in the figure chained next to me. My heart jumped to my throat, and my stomach sank to my knees simultaneously.

"Kathy?"

She smiled gently, the best she could manage in her situation. I hadn't seen her since the day Michael was tattooed, so I wasn't prepared for the true beauty she had turned into while we were apart. I had followed her growth in maturity from her letters, but this was something else entirely. However, as beautiful as she was, that was the last thing on my mind as I stared at her in complete horror.

Kathy was in Havenport. Kathy was chained in Pierce's basement.

"What under the two moons are you doing here?" I croaked. I had hoped to sound angry, but smoke and screaming had rendered my voice raspy and pathetic.

"You didn't answer my letters. I worried," Kathy said.

"So you decided to go after me? What were you thinking?" I demanded. I felt more fear than anger, but I didn't want to let her know that. Nevertheless, I had no idea how I was going to escape, let alone save Kathy as well…

"Don't be ridiculous," Kathy snapped, sounding insulted. I admired how she could still have her pride even with her hands bound above her head. "I collected Michael first, and we searched for you together."

A chill shimmered down my spine as the dots connected before my eyes. "You mean Michael is…?"

Kathy looked close to tears. "Pierce is going to dissect him to study his magic. Fisk, there must be something we can do!"

Was there? I had been trying to get out of this situation for a long time now, and my only progress had been to rope myself in deeper. I couldn't bear the sight of Kathy's pleading eyes any longer, so I turned my head, but that did little good. Pierce still blocked most of my view, but I now recognized the figure on the table as Michael, and I could only imagine the horror he must have been feeling after his time with Lady Ceciel.

I caught a flash of silver as the lantern light reflected off a small blade in Pierce's hand.

"Wait," I murmured. I could feel Kathy's gaze on me, but all my focus was on Pierce and Michael. "Wait," I tried again.

Whispering to Kathy hadn't been so bad, but even trying for a normal speaking voice burned my throat and lungs. I shifted in my chains as if physically moving would carry my voice farther, but the movement only served to reignite every nerve ending in my body with pain.

"Wait!" I half-shouted.

Pierce didn't even turn around. "Do you need something, Nonopherian? I am a little busy at the moment, so if you could wait, that would be lovely."

"I know where Jack went. It wasn't through the port," I rasped, pained breaths breaking up my words. Pierce's body froze, and he finally seemed interested.

I hated myself. In the end, I was going to betray Jack after all. But I had no choice. Jack's escape route was my only trump card in this situation, and I had to keep Kathy and Michael safe no matter what. I could only hope Jack had enough skill to keep evading Pierce even with my help.

"It's about time you tell the truth, Nonopherian Fisk. I was wondering when you would," Pierce said.

The pain put a slight edge on my words as I hissed them. "So can we make a deal? You free them, and I give you Jack's location?" I kept hoping he would turn away from Michael, but he seemed to be able to both attend to him and haggle with me at the same time.

"Now, now, Master Fisk, you'll tell me where Jack went no matter what," Pierce dismissed. He held two scalpels to the light, scrutinizing over details I did not have the peace of mind to comprehend.

"I can't guarantee that!" I cried out. Realizing my mistake, I lowered my eyes, glaring at my burns and gritting my teeth. Three quick breaths hissed past my lips before I raised my head again. This time, I made sure to keep my expression neutral and in control. "I have information that you want, and I am not going to betray Jack for a cheap price."

"As I have already told you, I only buy the best. I don't settle for _cheap_." He spat the last word as if it was dirty. "And I think you'll find the price quite expensive. You'll give me Jack's location, and Lady Kathryn will live."

To her credit, Kathy barely flinched. Fear may have glittered in her eyes, but her tongue was still sharp. "You can't get away with that! My father will already be tracking me, and he will hunt down anyone to cause me harm!"

"Yes, yes, of course," Pierce agreed. "But accidents can be easily be arranged. Mayhap I'll even frame Nonopherian as your murderer. Not entirely out of character for a con artist, hm?"

Now this was the true game we were playing, I suddenly realized. This wasn't like the battle with Rose when Michael and I were at war with a man born with power, a politician and an economist. No, Pierce was a man who crawled and grappled his way to the top through dirty and backhanded means. This was a battle of con artist versus con artist. Who could gull the other. Who was the weaker mark.

I glanced at Kathy, innocent and in chains, and Michael, laid out like a cow to be butchered. A lot more was at stake than a few coins or a run-in with the local sheriff.

This was a gamble with lives a lot more important than my own.

Pierce finally turned around, and our eyes met through the patched darkness and lantern light. As he grinned and I glared, we both accepted the silent challenge. He wanted Jack, and I wanted Michael and Kathy. I only wondered what would matter more in this situation: our desire, our intellect, or our will.

"Fisk, don't concern yourself with me," Michael suddenly spoke up. The first words he'd directed at me in many months. "Just get Kathy out of this." I wondered if he realized the game Pierce and I were playing. It seemed unlikely, but what did I know about him these days?

"Don't be stupid," Kathy muttered at my side.

I ignored them both and focused on Pierce. My arms bound above my head and my chest something to be pitied and scorned, it was hard to feel any sort of confidence, but I put up a good front. Whether Michael liked it or not, cons were something I could do.

"You're desperate for Jack's location. He has the formula for a potion only you had previously possessed, and now he's going to sell it anyway he possibly can. You won't be the sole provider anymore, and you'll lose power. This town is yours right now, but will that hold?" I taunted. It was an exaggeration. Jack would sell on the opposite side of the realm, and he'd do so sparingly in order to avoid notice from sheriffs and Pierce alike. Nevertheless, Pierce would be too blinded by greed and fear to realize that if he even knew Jack well enough in the first place.

"He might even find your original provider. May persuade him that Jack is a better client than you for future concoctions. Where would that leave you?" It was a shot in the dark, but even those sometimes hit targets. And I may hit close enough to fish out more information.

As soon as I had the thought, Michael called out, "'Twas Lady Ceciel! She sold the formula to Pierce. It grants temporary magic to humans."

The new knowledge tripped up my scam for a moment, but I processed the information quickly. The fact that the stakes had just risen barely crossed my mind as I reorganized my tirade. My expression never changed though Pierce looked annoyed.

"Master Sevenson, that was hardly polite. And after all that time I spent disinfecting the area of incision so that you wouldn't catch infection," he chided.

I heard the rattle of chains as Michael shifted, but I tried to put that from my mind. Thinking about Michael brought too many emotions, a primary one being confusion, and I couldn't afford to be distracted right now. I'd sort out things with him when we got out of this. If we got out of this.

"You're temporarily giving all of Havenport magic," I mused. "I wonder how the High Liege would respond to that."

"You're working backward, Nonopherian," Pierce warned. "Why would I ever let you escape if I thought you were going to report me to superiors?"

I shrugged and gave a wry grin. The movement sent fresh jolts of pain all through my body, but I did my best to ignore it. It was growing easier, so either the pain was numbing or haggling with Pierce was taking up most of my energy. "I'm just thinking out loud. Considering your possibilities," I assured him.

"You're stalling," Pierce corrected. "We all know who holds the true power here. You, Michael Sevenson, and Kathryn Sevenson are all at my mercy."

"But there are more players present than just the four of us. Tell me, do you buy the loyalty of your men-at-arms? How much? Enough to silence their consciences while you torture helpless men and kidnap a Gifted lady of course, but will it rival the amount the High Liege will offer for Havenport's freedom and your downfall? Or the amount Jack will make when he makes the potion available for the United Realm?"

I wondered if they noticed that my arguments contradicted each other in places, but I doubted it. The key of cons was wording things so marks couldn't see past the pretty, carefully arranged loops. Besides, I didn't actually expect to gain the loyalty of Pierce's guards – that would require more luck that I ever possessed – but if I planted areas of uneasiness, the speech was worth the effort.

"Enough of this," Pierce snapped, visibly irritated now. He crossed his arms. "You talk of great things for someone who can currently do nothing. I'll end this quickly: You will give me Jack's escape route, and I will allow the lady to live. Master Sevenson has already bargained his life over to me, and I simply cannot let the lady leave this place after what she has seen. I'm sure she'll find a new home here in my manor… Perhaps even as the Mistress Pierce. That would solve a few problems, wouldn't it?"

Something dangerously close to hatred reared in my stomach, but I forced the energy to redirect itself to my purposes. An idea occurred to me, and I allowed a slow smile to spread across my lips. I only hoped Michael could tamp down on his noble knight errantry long enough to work with me.

"That would be true, Master Pierce, if it wasn't for what has already been set into motion. I would have brought it up earlier, but I had hoped we wouldn't come to this. You're forcing my hand," I said.

Pierce tried hard not to let my words affect him, but I could see his composure cracking. I had a feeling he wasn't used to his victims fighting back this long. Maybe I was a fool for trying, but one glance at Kathy steeled my nerves. I still wasn't quite sure how she had gotten tangled into this mess, but I would get her out of it. "You already know that I contacted Michael in the marketplace. What do you think took him so long to get here? Kathy just informed me that he passed a certain message on through a letter carrier to his father, the Baron Sevenson. Now she didn't tell me what exactly the message contained, but I imagine it had something to do with his and Lady Kathryn's current location and purpose."

"You're bluffing!" Pierce snarled. "There is no such message."

Indeed I was, but I had gotten by on far weaker bluffs. Then again, I had also faced far weaker opponents. Nevertheless, not daring to glance at Kathy or Michael, I continued, "Baron Sevenson was quite angry to hear of Kathryn's disappearance, so I imagine he will send men right away. If you send Kathy and Michael away now, they could possibly stop the Baron, assure him of their safety, and smooth the whole ordeal over. Then I shall give you Jack's location in exchange for my freedom, and it will be as if this never happened."

I watched Pierce closely, waiting for any detail that might give away his next move. My heart beat at terrifying speed and volume, and the pain from my burns started to ignite again. Or perhaps I only just then started to notice. If I couldn't end this quickly, I was afraid I would pass out from the pain and stress, and that would hardly do me any good while playing a power game.

After what seemed like an eternity held in just a few seconds, Pierce turned to Michael. "Is this true, Master Sevenson?"

It was all I could do not to bite my lip or hold my breath as I waited for Michael's answer. I hoped that Kathy's life in danger would prompt him to lie as convincingly as he had when he stepped in for Willard. I hoped Pierce would be too paranoid to see through Michael's inexperience.

I had never been one to trust in luck, but I wouldn't have minded just a bit in that moment.


	10. Michael 5

**Chapter Ten: Michael**

All eyes turned to me as Pierce's question hung in the air. I swallowed, shaking hard enough to rattle the chains snared around my wrists and ankles. Truth be told, I'd heard Fisk's words, but they had become increasingly hard to follow, for Fisk's gift for verbally outwitting his opponents requires strict concentration to fully understand, and my mind was already racing with new information.

So Pierce was after Jack Bannister? The old con had tricked Pierce by stealing the tradesman's magica formula, and had then left Fisk to suffer in his stead once again! Damn Fisk for sparing that bastard's life in Tallowsport! Was justice meaningless to him _now_?

But none of that currently mattered. Now, all figures present stared at me: Kathy, Pierce, Fisk, even the brutes standing guard in the shadows. Fog filled my mind as I tried to formulate proper thought. "What?" I heard myself say as I blinked at Fisk, truly confused. "What message?"

At once, Kathy made a high, wincing noise and Fisk exhaled so deeply, I thought his legs would give way with the weight of his defeat. I had never seen his face crumple with such disappointment, nor his shoulders slump in complete and utter acceptance of fate, and all because I had been an idiot once again.

The next thing I knew, Pierce chuckled deep in his throat and turned away from me. That was when I realized my mistake. "Wait, no! The letter, of course! I did send one to my father! Just before coming after Fisk!"

"Of course you did, Master Sevenson," Pierce waved away.

"'Tis the truth!" I appealed frenziedly. Blast it all, Fisk's clever bluff was our one chance at freedom, and I had ruined it carelessly! I couldn't look at my sister or Fisk any longer. If anything, I had already singlehandedly carried out their death sentences. "I swear to you, Pierce, I sent a message to my father and his liege lord earlier this evening! If anything, they'll already be searching the realm for Kathy and will receive my letter on the road!"

"'Tis over, Master Sevenson! No need to waste your precious breath with frantic blubbering. Those very breaths are numbered now, after all," Pierce droned disinterestedly. His amused glare flicked to Fisk. "I can see why you abandoned this fool, Nonopherian. It must have been incredibly tiresome traveling with a man so daft. But I suppose to become a knight errant, one must forfeit intellect in exchange for foolishness."

Tears sprang to my eyes and I shook my chains uselessly. Fear made my naked chest rise and fall rapidly, but 'twas my helplessness and failure that reduced me to sobs. Then true terror erupted in my soul once again when Pierce tested the sharpness of his scalpel by pricking his thumb with the tip. A bubble of blood welled up, and the evil villain sucked it dry.

"Perfect," Pierce simpered, as one of his brutes, as directed, moved to dangle a lantern above my quivering chest. "Now that all this pointless haggling is over with, let us proceed with your surgical procedure, Sir Knight. I would promise this won't hurt a bit, but that would be yet _another _lie." He then expertly lowered the tip of his scalpel to the disinfected spot beneath my heart and was about to perform the incision when—

"You're making a terrible mistake!"

Kathy…

Annoyed, Pierce glanced back at his brutes. "One of you gag her. I won't have her outbursts bother my concentration."

"You don't want to do this! I promise 'tis not a lie!" Kathy yelled as she desperately tried to evade the man trying to catch his cloth in her mouth. He pushed her against the wall and began to stuff the gag, but my sister spat it out. "It doesn't matter if every word Fisk just said was a lie, for mayhap Michael did not send a letter, but I did!"

Pierce rolled his eyes and turned to stare at his prisoner. Finally, the brute managed to silence her appeals, but unless my eyes deceived me, Pierce looked slightly interested in what Kathy had to say. I, as well, hoped that mayhap my baby sister could redeem my horrid blunder.

"If this is some dimwitted ploy to save your own skin, Mistress Sevenson, then I am afraid you should know it will not convince me. But I do enjoy listening to my victims' desperate pleas for life. 'Tis part of the reason I had this chamber built in the first place." He gestured for her gag to be removed and then put down his scalpel. "I'm listening."

Fisk looked at Kathy as if she were hope springing anew in his forlorn soul, but my sister paid him no mind. She assumed her prowess and lifted her chin with all the dignity she could muster, as if she were not at all chained with her arms high above her head.

"Weeks ago, my mother helped me hire a tracker so that I could find my brother, and since I left home, I have been keeping her informed of the towns I've visited and the people I've met. Earlier today, I sent her yet another letter telling her of mine and Michael's arrival in Havenport, and that Master Fisk had supposedly disappeared here. If she fails to receive further letters, she will send men to come looking for me, and if I, or any of us, are found dead, it won't be long before my family accuses you of murder. You, the man infamous for making innocent townsmen disappear. Surely you know the rumors, for they run free and loose around your treasured city."

'Twas blackmail, but in that moment, I could have kissed my sister if not for these blasted chains.

Pierce, however, appeared less than swayed. He leaned casually against the table, crossed his arms, and said, "But you are forgetting my plans for you, Lady Kathryn. Suppose your mother becomes convinced that the scum who traveled with her son is actually capable of gruesome murder. 'Twould be horrific, but not at all uncommon for a lady to die at the hands of a dishonest rogue. Unless, of course, you'd rather become my mistress."

Surprisingly, Kathy refused to show fear. Rather, she shrugged and ignored Pierce's last remark. "You make a fine case, but I fear 'twould never hold up in any decent court. You see, Fisk and I have been in written correspondence for three years now, and I have the letters to prove it. My mother also knows of these letters. In fact, she's read a great deal of them."

"She has?" Fisk blurted quite suddenly, his cheeks dappled red.

"Of course. She wanted to know how Michael was faring."

It had been quite some time since I'd thought about my mother. I'd always assumed she'd written me off like Father. Now I learned she was the driving force behind Kathy coming after me…

"Anyway, Fisk has kept a number of my letters, as well. You can find them at the Sailor's Den if you require the necessary proof. I know you'll probably burn them to kill the evidence, but you will never find the letters I've kept hidden. Those alone would prove Fisk's innocence."

"Or that Nonopherian is a wonderfully skilled con artist."

"Forgive me, Master Pierce, but few see the world in the same twisted light you do. Reputable judicars would see clear through such a ruse."

"And you have a tragically inexperienced view of the world, little lady. You don't think every bloodthirsty judicar would jump at the chance to string up a once-alleged fugitive? Either way, Mistress Sevenson, I cannot allow you to leave my manor alive. I'd hardly be the richest man in Havenport if I allowed those who knew too many of my secrets to walk free in the streets."

"And you will hang after my father finds you!" Kathy threatened in rebuttal. She shook her chains loudly, conveying her fury. "My letter has still been sent! You've already lost even if you haven't realized it yet, you despicable, vile—"

Pierce waved for his brute to reinsert her gag as he suddenly became bored with her stubborn arguments. Though Kathy squealed and Fisk shouted at the massive brute to take his grimy hands off her, Pierce turned his scrutinizing attention back to me. "It's high time I learn what makes you so special, Master Sevenson."

"And what will cutting me open prove?" I dared ask.

"Well, I've performed my fair share of case studies. The human anatomy is brilliantly complex, though I have found that a Savant's physical make up differs slightly from a Giftless man's. You are Gifted in two respects, Sir Knight, and I plan to learn everything about how your blood pumps, the pattern of your reflexes, the stress limits of your vital organs, and mayhap I can extract some of Lady Ceciel's potion from your veins and use it as a base for my newest formula."

"Or you could just contact Lady Ceciel and instruct her what draft to concoct," I squeaked pathetically as Gage removed his scalpel and a sparkling silver clamp. Though I did not want Pierce or Lady Ceciel to succeed in their endeavors, my dire situation had awakened the cursed coward within me.

Pierce grinned his yellow grin. "Yes, but you see, you broke into my house tonight, and you spoiled the fun I was having with Master Fisk. All crimes must be accounted for, Sir Knight, and since you are both an intruder and an unredeemed man—" He eyed my tattoos with sick interest, "—I can do whatever I like without the fear of _hanging_ for my ventures." He winked back at Kathy most sinisterly.

"Pierce, listen to me," Fisk said with more desperate appeal than anything. I was surprised he even had the heart to voice such concern on my behalf, or mayhap this was just a method of survival? "I think you're forgetting the real reason why we're here. You want Jack Bannister, and I know where you can find him, but if you harm Michael, I will take my secret to the grave, I swear it upon my life."

"Now, now, Nonopherian," Pierce sighed exasperatedly. "'Tis you who cannot see what's right in front of you. Haven't you realized it yet? If I uncover the secrets of Master Sevenson's powers, I hardly need Jack anymore. He will only sell worthless recipes for non-permanent magica, whereas I will know the formula for the Gifts the gods created. But I will find him eventually, with or without your help. He _will_ pay for crossing me."

Rarely was Fisk ever reduced to gulping silence, but now was one of those times. He'd been outsmarted, outfoxed. I doubted the notion had ever occurred to him, but he knew it now. We both did.

'Twas then that Pierce slid the sharp edge of his scalpel deep into my flesh.

I screamed at the sudden biting incision of pain so loudly that the lantern above Pierce's head blew out like flame caught in the wind. Even in the darkness, I could feel a stream of blood flowing over my stomach, down my side, and into a puddle on the table.

"Damn it, fetch me another light!" Pierce ordered.

"You rotten bastard!" I heard Fisk yell and then wince as pain from his burns overcame him. 'Twas amazing that I could hear his voice above the pitch of my own wails. I also heard Kathy screech through her gag, but what could she do to help me now? What could either of them do, chained and helpless as they were? Nothing.

Panic flooded inside me as surrounding footsteps clambered and Pierce continued to demand a light. "I'm losing samples of fresh blood, you idiots. Light the damn lantern!"

I began to feel my shackles rumble as the panic poured through my veins and leaked from my panting breaths. I tried to shake them away, but the iron held me tight. Heat seemed to radiate off the base of the table as I squirmed and groaned in protest. Once the lamp was lit, Pierce would deepen the incision, and unless he had a trick for keeping me alive, I would surely die of blood loss. Or faint from the pain first.

A match struck and fizzled, leading Pierce to shriek madly. I pulled with all my strength on the chains. If I focused my mind on my magic, I could get out of this. I could show Pierce exactly what kind of monster he was dealing with, and mayhap that would satisfy the research he desired?

Groaning against the pain and the fear, I gave the chains another solid tug and felt the bolts give way. Shackles encircled my wrists, as did the long ropes of chain links, but my arms were free. 'Twas the same case for my legs once I pulled them loose. My next order of business was punching blindly into the dark until I connected with the madman hovering over me.

Pierce grunted and slid to the floor, and once the lantern finally flickered to life, the brutes found me standing atop the stone table. Seething with complete rage, I held my hand out to the dim candlelight and forced it to ignite tenfold. The one thug dropped the lantern, and before any of them could flee, an unrecognizable force ripped from my being and sent their backs flying against the wall. They blacked out on impact, and the fallen lantern left the only light emanating off the stone floor in an eerie puddle.

"Enough is enough, Pierce," I roared as I turned around. "I'm taking you to the High Liege, and from there, he will put an end to your foul dealings and thus release Havenport from your oppressive h-hand—"

Blood ran in scarlet rivers from Pierce's nose, as I knew it would, but I had not expected to find him standing behind both Kathy and Fisk with a wickedly curved knife fisted in his hands. He smiled in such a deranged fashion, I almost guessed he'd already wielded the knife, but I was wrong. He was using my loved ones as a shield to save himself from my Gifts, and his eyes glittered with villainous intent.

"Your powers truly are magnificent," he admired. "But I am afraid I will not be taken down so easily. You may have alerted your father of my whereabouts, but even if you arrest me now, I'm still a hanged man, so tell me, what is the harm in going out with one more crime?"

Bitter realization turned my blood to ice in my veins, and not for the first time in this accursed basement. With quick dexterity, Pierce waved his knife alternatively between Fisk and Kathy, who both looked pale with terror. 'Twas Fisk who glanced up at me first, as if he already knew the outcome to Pierce's blasted plans, and his eyes sparkled with new pain and regret for the thousands of words we'd left unspoken, and would probably never get to say.

"Why don't we make a game out of it, Master Sevenson? I'll let you keep one, but you have to choose which. If in five minutes you do not make a choice, I will kill them both." Again, Pierce graced me with his vindictive smile. "Do you understand?"


	11. Fisk 6

**Chapter Eleven: Fisk**

I didn't understand why Michael was hesitating. The choice was obvious. Kathy's life could still be saved, and she had years and years ahead of her that would actually be used for good things. She held too much innocence and too much potential for it to end here. If we could accomplish nothing else in this pit of hell, protecting her would be worth it all.

Yes the lunatic noble stared at us all in horror, and I could tell his lip was quivering. His eyes were perfect mirrors of the turmoil he felt inside. Stupid noble knight errant. Didn't he see that there was no choice at all?

I was a con artist, a rogue. While I may have been currently redeemed, that didn't erase a lifetime of crimes. I never regretted them really, but I knew my place. Kathy's life was worth a million of mine. Besides, I had betrayed him. Any normal man would have condemned me in the blink of an eye for that fact alone, but Michael had to be the one person in the entire United Realm to look over such an important detail in a time like this.

A minute passed, and Pierce continued to alternate the knife between Kathy's throat and mine. I realized Michael was too much of an idiot to make the decision on his own.

"Don't be an idiot, Noble Sir. She's your sister," I reminded him. It occurred to me that these words were my self-imposed death sentence.

Kathy squealed through her gag, but I barely noticed.

I had sacrificed so much to ensure my survival. I left my family, devoted myself to Jack, and then learned to live without Jack. Quick images of the various cons I had pulled over the years flashed through my mind, and then, oddly enough, images of my adventures with Michael. We'd certainly endured our fair share of trouble. For a long time, I had thought Michael would be the death of me.

I suppose it would be his word that would kill me, but the fault remained with Jack. Or did it? Perhaps it was just my own poor judgment. Poor judgment in companions. What's the difference between a bandit and a friend?

You're expecting it when a bandit leaves you to take the fall.

Michael looked like he was going to be sick. "Fisk… I…"

Why was he still protesting? If he would just give Pierce his answer, this would be over for them. They could leave and go back home. Resume their lives however they wished. There was no point in prolonging this pain for anyone.

I decided to address someone more reasonable about these sort of things. "Pierce, kill me."

He cackled madly, and though he brushed the point of his knife against my throat, he refused to go any deeper. Gooseflesh broke out across my skin. "No cheating, Master Fisk," he scolded. "Master Sevenson has to tell me. Say the name. Say the name of the one you're going to doom, or I'll kill them both when time is up."

Michael started trembling. He practically fell from the stone table, and he moved toward us with the coordination of a simple one but stopped when Pierce voiced his warning.

"Now hold it right there, Michael. I want you at exactly that distance while you're making your decision. Close enough to see the tears in their eyes but far enough to know that you are very alone," Pierce said. He used the knife like an extension of himself as he took to caressing my cheek and neck with the wickedly sharp tip.

Michael stood painfully still, but now that he was before us, I could see the way his eyes shone with rising tears. Though he hardly seemed to notice, blood dripped from the cut in his stomach, and the drops made impressions in the dirt floor. These details were unimportant, but my mind seemed desperate to hold onto everything of this world that it could while it still had the chance.

Michael choked out, "Y-you can't-"

I almost wanted to lecture him like I used to when we traveled together. This was too late in the game to be making desperate pleas, especially when the villain in question held just enough sanity to gull the mark but kill him in the process. We had reached a standstill, and there was no noble way to get out of this. He would finally have to face that.

"Damn you, Michael," I said. I knew he always wanted me to use his given name, and it certainly got his attention now. "We both know what you have to do. I'm sorry, but that's the way it is. I'm not…" I swallowed because this seemed too ridiculous to be real. How did I find myself assuring a noble, a man who used to be my friend, that I would forgive him for killing me? "I'm not going to be angry, you know."

"No, I imagine you won't be much at all," Pierce added. If he wasn't the one with the knife, we would have punched him.

If anyone was watching, they would have thought Michael was the one about to die. He parted trembling lips.

"Say the name," Pierce urged. "Say the name of the one you can live without."

I clenched my eyes shut. That was more painful than I had expected, but I reassured myself that the pain wouldn't last long. I kept my eyes closed in hope that Michael could find the courage if I wasn't watching. Sure enough, his mouth started to form around the syllable of my name.

"F… Fi…"

Kathy's squeals reached an impressive volume, and I could hear the rattles of her chains. I only hoped that she looked away when the deed was done.

"Now wait a moment, if Master Fisk can speak, it's only fair to let Mistress Sevenson have an opinion," Pierce decided.

I heard the rustle of the gag being removed quickly followed by Kathy's, "Michael, stop this right now! You can't do this!"

Snapping my eyes open, I turned my head to glare at her. "Stop it, Kathy! Just let me do this one thing for you, okay?"

Her mouth quivered, and her eyes swam with tears. "I don't want this," she murmured. "This is the last thing I'd ever want from you."

"It doesn't matter. Michael, end this now!" I ordered. If they didn't finish this up soon, Pierce would act on his threat and kill us both. Then my death truly would be meaningless.

I turned to Michael, and he met my eyes. He always did that, looked people straight in the eyes when he talked to them. It was that damned honesty. Meeting others' eyes always made me fidgety and nervous, and I avoided it unless it was necessary for a con. This last time, however, I didn't shy away, and I tried to tell him everything that I could in those few seconds we had.

Michael nodded, and he acted as if the small gesture would destroy what was left of his heart. "Kill him," he murmured, barely audible. "You sick bastard, kill Fisk."

I could feel more than see the wide grin to spread across Pierce's face. The dark man moved so that his body blocked my view of Michael, and I tried not to flinch in turn. "Where should I begin, dear Nonopherian? How shall I end your life? Slitting your throat, stabbing your heart? Though I suppose Master Sevenson already did _that_…"

"Just do it quickly, so I don't have to endure your presence any longer," I requested.

Pierce sneered, and he rose to his full height before me, his legs straddling my form. I wondered if this one last show of power was worth showing his back to Michael. Then again, I supposed it didn't matter when he was about to kill me and then face redemption by blood.

"Don't do this! Don't add more blood to your hands!" Kathy cried. I wished she would give up. I hoped she would move on and forget… No, I was too selfish for that. I hoped she would move on.

Pierce used the knife to lightly trace the burns on my chest, and the pain turned my breaths to hisses. He grinned at this but then moved the knife higher, apparently satisfied with his work there. He allowed the blade to rest on the pulse at my throat, and I closed my eyes. Accepting. I waited for pain or darkness or peace, depending on which village legend I chose to believe.

Lucky me. It turned out to be pain _and_ darkness, but no peace. The knife slid across my throat in a quick motion, and I could feel slick, sticky blood coating my neck. Then a heavy weight fell over me, and I couldn't see a thing, and I could barely breathe.

A moment later, the weight was lifted away, and I blinked several times successively. Blood still streamed from my neck, but as I continued to breathe, I realized the wound was shallow and superficial. I looked up with wide, unbelieving eyes to see Michael pulling Pierce's limp body away. I couldn't see any wound, yet his eyelids fluttered in the way of a rapidly weakening heart.

Michael dropped Pierce on the ground and held up a small scalpel gleaming red. "I made the blade sharper. Oh gods," he choked, and for a moment, I thought he was going to be sick.

I stared in open horror and shock. Never, never in my life, did I ever expect Michael to mortally harm someone. While I couldn't say if Pierce would die or not, there was no denying that Michael had dealt the blow with lethal intentions. Suddenly, the blood on my throat felt too sticky, too cold, and I realized just how lucky I was to not be in his position.

"There's a key in one of the thug's pockets. Unlock your sister," I told Michael gently. He needed a job to do.

Michael nodded and left to where he had knocked out the guards. While he was gone, I turned to meet Kathy's eyes. Her face was pale and her lips unnaturally thin. "Are you okay?" I probed gently.

She shook her head and then nodded. "I'm glad you're alive," she said, but I could hear the unspoken follow-up. I agreed with her.

My life wasn't worth Michael's sacrificed innocence. Even if Pierce lived, would he forgive himself?

Reality seemed barely tangible. Michael returned with an iron key, and he quickly released Kathy's bonds. They should never have been here. Pierce was my problem and mine alone. As soon as Kathy stood, I suggested, "Why don't you go fetch the sheriff? The servants should let you pass without hindrance. We'll need the law to deal with…" I trailed off, but Pierce's shallow breaths surely supplied the rest of the sentence well enough.

Kathy looked hesitant, but when Michael voiced his agreement, she nodded. "You two bandage each other up," she ordered. Then she sprinted up the stairs and disappeared into the light. Even though the danger was mostly gone, it was still a relief to see her free and leaving the basement.

Once Kathy left, Michael started to unlock my own chains.

He kneeled down at my side, and I stared at my shackled feet to avoid his eyes. Humiliation at my position hit me full force, and as ridiculous as the thought was, I wished we could have met under different circumstances after I abandoned him and claimed that I would be just fine without him. He stretched forward to reach the chains around my wrists, and my face met his chest. At least it was better than his eyes.

"Thanks," I muttered. The silence would suffocate us if we let it continue too much longer, and I supposed it needed to be said anyway.

I heard the clink of the key sliding into place and lifting the latch. One cuff fell, and my arm dropped in both blissful relief and agony as the movement stretched my burned chest muscles. I tried to muffle my sharp intake of breath, but I was sure he heard it.

"Don't," he warned. He unlocked the other cuff and pulled back so that I could see his face once again.

I shifted in my place and tried to ignore how my chest burned. It seemed like it had been ages since my arms were left free, and I took turns rubbing feeling back into my hands. I flinched when he started around my ankles, but then I realized he was only unlocking the shackles there. As he took care of those, I desperately tried to think of something I could say that would dispel the tension and get me on the road as quickly as possible.

Nothing came to mind. I had a feeling Michael wouldn't be letting me go anywhere, and after he rescued me, I really didn't have the right to protest.

Michael rose to his feet when he finished unlocking me, and he seemed to be struggling with something to say as well.

I planted my hands on the ground and tried to force myself up, but the strain on my muscles unleashed the pain with a vengeance. The effect took my breath away, but I was tired of needing help, so I forced myself to push through it. I managed to get in a mostly upright position before a particularly bad spasm made me double over. I would have fallen if Michael hadn't caught me around the shoulders, careful to avoid my chest.

"We need to get you to a healer," he said.

As soon as I was certain I could stand on my own two feet, I gently pushed him away. "I need a shirt," I corrected. On second thought, any brush of fabric against my skin would render me helpless, but I needed to hide the burns if I ever planned to go outside.

I couldn't quite determine Michael's expression. Sometimes it looked sad and sometimes angry, but it was difficult to tell when I only stole quick glances. Still, I think he nodded.

Michael said, "We should go meet the sheriff. You're a redeemed man. Your burns will act as proper testimony to his crimes—"

"I'll tell them I stabbed him," I interrupted.

Predictably, Michael's face twisted at the dishonesty, but I cut him off before he could go on a ridiculous tangent. "You're unredeemed. They could kill you for wounding a noble. I have no social status, but I am redeemed. Besides…" I sighed and motioned to my chest. "Look at me. It was obviously self-defense that I stabbed him."

Michael opened his mouth to protest once again, but I raised my voice. "No, we're not arguing over this. Don't say a word because you'll give it all away. Let me handle this."


	12. Michael 6

**Chapter Twelve: Michael**  
**  
**I was still shaking violently after emerging from the basement. My mind had retreated elsewhere and 'twas a miracle all on its own that I managed to climb the steep steps up into the kitchen without tumbling. I knew Fisk was in worse condition than me, but he refused my helping hand once I reached the top and motioned down to him.

"I can make it up fine on my own, Noble Sir," he grunted.

I didn't respond, but I did wait for him. He grimaced and winced as he climbed, but thankfully, he still possessed enough sense to lock the accursed cellar door behind him. Now, Pierce and his men could not escape their inevitable fates, if of course, the sheriffs and judicars disregarded Pierce's financial bribes and strove for justice instead.

As it turned out, Pierce never once bought out the lawmen of Havenport. Rather, the infamous tradesman had threatened the lives of various family members if the sheriff and his men ever dared cross him, and since Pierce already had a reputation for making townspeople disappear without a trace, the law had turned a blind eye on the black market crimes overwhelming the city.

"But not anymore," the sheriff assured Kathy after she told him of our narrow escape from Pierce's basement. Unfortunately for the people of Havenport, their sheriff, a man called Master Porter, was tragically unintimidating, and looked far better suited for keeping records of criminals rather than arresting them. 'Twas no wonder he never stood up to bullies like Pierce and his brutes, but still no excuse.

While various guardsmen infiltrated Pierce's mansion and rounded up the staff inside, I found myself sliding down the brick wall outside the yard, shivering, shirtless, and alone. Sometime—I could not remember when—I had managed to lose the manacles fixed around my wrists and ankles, and I spent a long while vigorously massaging feeling back into my muscles. I hardly noticed the wound in my stomach anymore. As far as I knew, it scarcely bled, but I never had been one to keep account of my own injuries. 'Twas usually Fisk who saw to practical things like that, though I did not expect to find him hovering over me now of all times. In fact, I didn't even know where he'd wandered off to...

Next thing I knew, a city guardsman demanded to check my wrists, as is routine during crime scene investigations. I found I couldn't even lift my eyes as I regretfully handed him my arm and he gently turned it over. A disgusted grunt escaped his lips not a moment later, and he threw my arm back to me with more force than was necessary. Nearby, I heard him tell another guard, "The two over there are in need of medical attention. We can't do anything for this one. He's marked. Legally speaking, his injuries can't be held against Pierce."

In other words, the law would not shed a scrap of fairness on an unredeemed man. I lowered my face and hugged my arm against my chest as if it burned. 'Twas a pathetic attempt at comforting myself. Days ago, I had been alone, but that was nothing compared to the abandonment I felt now.

I continued to tremble as guardsmen hauled Pierce's body out of his house on a canvas stretcher. Was he dead? Had I actually killed another man? Of course, I could hardly regret it if I had, but the thought did not stop the frightened tears from welling up in my eyes. I could still feel Pierce's flesh splitting under my magically sharpened scalpel—quick and smooth, like slicing through butter, and the horrid recollection made bile rise in my throat, as well as other unsavory contents of my stomach.

"Michael?" I heard Kathy whisper softly as I watched the guardsmen carry Pierce away. Where had she come from? I flinched and dodged her gaze, too ashamed to meet her eyes. Before I knew it, the gentle brush of her fingertips smoothed away my tears. "Michael, dear, we need to get you to a physician. You need stitches."

"Where's Fisk?"

"Last I saw, he was speaking to the sheriff, but then one of the healers noticed his injuries. They've carted him away to the healing house. We can follow them there. Come on, give me your hand."

"What did Fisk tell the sheriff?" I asked instead of listening to her. I had to know.

Kathy let loose a tiny sigh. "That he stabbed Pierce. I knew best not to say anything different, and besides, Fisk is right. If the law knew you'd stabbed a noble, they'd hang you! 'Tis not self-defense if you are unredeemed."

"Well, the law will know the truth soon enough," I said bleakly. "When Pierce wakes up, he'll begin fighting his case. He'll tell the sheriff 'twas me who delivered the blow."

"I'm afraid he won't. Pierce is dead, Michael."

Somehow, I already knew that. I might have even accepted it the moment I pried Pierce's limp body off of Fisk and held up the bloody scalpel in my hand—I had killed a man. A living, breathing, wicked man, but a man all the same. And with magic...

Mayhap 'twas only my imagination, but I thought I felt the skin around my tattoos sting, as if confirmation of my vile deed. Without a word, I nodded that I understood, and Kathy reacted by giving my hand a gentle squeeze.

"'Tis alright," she said in a lowered whisper. "That monster deserved what he got."

I didn't know if I agreed, but I was too distant to care. My head suddenly felt heavy and strangely hazy, as if filled with fog. 'Twas then I noticed the slick coating of blood on my hand from the wound below my heart. Could all that blood be mine? Even if not, the sight apparently frightened Kathy, for she supported my sagging form all the way to the healing house.

"I need a physician!" she announced once we stumbled inside a building that smelled strongly of marrow and duckroot. "Please, my brother! He's wounded."

There were three physicians inside the workroom, and at first, all three surged into action. Then a fourth entered in from the back room and glared at me cruelly. "I will not have that criminal here. Take him elsewhere if you want him healed," he growled.

"But he's bleeding!" Kathy protested, horrified. I, on the other hand, expected nothing less. As I said before, word of an unredeemed man in town carries faster than wildfire. "He doesn't have the strength to find another healing house!"

The physician turned his stone-cold face away. "That is no concern of mine. I have the wellbeing of my patients to protect. Get him out of here before I call for the sheriff."

Smoke nearly spiraled out of Kathy's ears as she gritted her teeth in absolute frustration. "Fine, then I will bind him myself. Here, take this!" She angrily tossed a silk purse onto the physician's table, and a few gold pieces spilled out. "'Tis more than enough roundels for a roll of bandages and a needle and thread. I'll even wrap his wounds outside. Come on, hurry up," she ordered with more venom than a viper. Even the physician appeared slightly frightened as he searched for the tools she demanded. Mayhap he thought Kathy an unredeemed criminal, as well…

"Bastards!" Kathy cursed as we staggered down a nearby alley, a healing kit in her left hand, my wrist in her right. "Where is the compassion? I thought healers worked to _help _other people!"

I thought about how Pierce had ridiculed Kathy's inexperienced view of the world and almost found myself agreeing with his claims. 'Twas no different than the ideals Fisk used to have about me, back when I'd first possessed a faultless perception of heroism and chivalry, right and wrong. I'd found out the hard way that life is nothing like it reads in the ballads. There is no straightforward good and evil—those lines blur much too commonly. Some knights become rogues, and some rogues become heroes. Kathy needed to understand that, but I found I was much too muddled in the mind to speak clearly.

Kathy stitched me up with a well-advanced skill at needlework. She must have picked up a talent for it during my years away. Under her nimble fingers, I felt safe and cared for—a feeling that has escaped my memory for quite some time. I even found it amazing that she held together so steadily after the nightmarish torment she'd just endured.

"You should be in the physician's house with Fisk," I heard myself say to break the silence.

Kathy didn't even look up from the roll of bandages she was unraveling. "So should you, although I'm not sure how we'll manage it. Those blasted fools looked at you as if you were a dangerous murderer!"

"Which I suppose I am," I reminded her gloomily.

Without warning, she pinched my chin, hard, and forced me to meet her eyes. I had never seen her innocent face so full of malice, save the time she stood up to Pierce's threats. "You are _not _dangerous, or a murderer. If not for you, both Fisk and I would be dead. Do you really believe Pierce would have held to the rules of his sick, twisted game? He would have taken all of us down with him if you hadn't fought back!"

"That _game _wouldn't have happened if I hadn't ruined Fisk's escape plan in the first place!"

"Oh, is that what you're so distraught over? Please, Michael. 'Twas quick thinking on Fisk's part, but you know Pierce never would have trusted any of us to leave quietly. And besides, I amended your little mishap, and quite brilliantly if I do say so myself." A smug smile graced her lips as she said this. I knew she was trying to make me feel better, but my spirits did not deserve to be lifted. However, Kathy's actions did warrant some recognition.

"You're just as clever as Fisk. Mayhap more so," I told her, and she shrugged.

"Fisk merely planted the idea in my head. When he mentioned the imaginary letter you sent to Father, I was reminded of the one I'd actually sent to Mother earlier today. I just never would have thought to use it to my advantage like Fisk did."

"So that's all true?" I asked nervously. "Did Mother really fund your expedition to find me?"

Kathy must have heard the tinge of longing in my voice, for she smiled warmly. "Of course she did. She's too proud to admit it, but she's constantly worried sick about you. I know 'tis true because she takes an anxiety draught every morning with breakfast, and on your birthdays, she claims to be ill and spends all day crying in bed."

Chill vastly unalike to the feeling I'd felt when I learned Pierce was dead filled me to the brim. I'd always believed my mother to be the mirror image of my father—cold, disappointed, and unfeeling. Never in a thousand years would I have thought Lady Sevenson cared so much about her unredeemed failure of a fourth son.

"I may have lied a little, though," Kathy explained hesitantly. "Mother thought that if she sent me with the tracker, I could convince you to finally come home. What she doesn't know is that the main mission of my quest had to do with Fisk's letter. I think she'll also be a little put out to learn I paid the tracker double his fare to leave me alone after I found you in Lionelvale."

"I see how high I rate," I tried to tease, but it came out sour. "You only wanted to track me down so that I would help you find Fisk. By the gods, you are in love with him."

"Is that really such a bad thing?"

I shrugged to that, for there truly was nothing to say, and Kathy seemed to sense my indifference. She coughed awkwardly into her fist and then began wrapping my torso in bandages. Her hands wavered when she saw my back, and the little whimper that escaped her throat confirmed the fact that she had never seen my flogging scars up close before.

"The horrors you've gone through since you left home," she muttered vaguely.

Ah, but she was also forgetting the adventures! Mayhap I no longer treasured the same flawed ideals as the knight errant of my youth, but I still cherished my good deeds and victorious successes. Yes, there were always moments of pain and danger during my quests, but I never regretted them, for during those times, I had never been alone. Now…

"I'm thankful for you, Kathy," I said as she tied off the knot to my bindings. "You served as any loyal squire should—with courage and fealty. You're the best a knight could hope for."

"The best?" she questioned dubiously, and then allowed her words to sink in. "Now, I know you don't mean that."

We always seemed to come back to Fisk. "He wants nothing to do with me anymore, Kathy, and nothing about tonight will change that," I replied, for 'twas the bleak and bitter truth.

To my surprise, Kathy did not push the argument. Instead, she pressed her hand lightly against my heart and listened to its thumping. A youthful grin played around her lips, and I recalled the various times she and I had played 'physician and patient' as children. If only Kathy understood how very proud I was of her, and how sorry I was to let her down, even if she claimed otherwise.

"How strange to think your blood flows with magic now," she voiced out of the blue, then met my eyes curiously, her hand still positioned flat against my chest.

I'd nearly forgotten. "'Twas through no device of my own! Lady Ceciel made me what I am, and I'm so sorry if it frightened you!" I apologized frantically.

Kathy merely looked appalled by my sudden burst of anxiety. "Frightened me? Michael, your Gifts _saved _me. And Fisk! You really need to stop pretending like everything's your fault. 'Tis not a knight errant's job to take the fall for everything."

"So you don't think I'm a monster?"

"Of course not! But no doubt Benton would be fascinated to study you—not like Pierce, mind—and can you imagine what Father would say? Truly, I'm surprised you never told him! He might have been so furious toward Lady Ceciel that he may have forgotten to have you tattooed altogether! Perhaps if you showed him now—"

"No," I declared firmly. "Father is never to know, and I forbid you from telling him. This is my burden to bear—"

"Here we go again!"

"I'm serious, Kathy!" I nearly shouted. 'Twas then I realized how dry my throat tasted, and the added strain only made my muscles burn. Quietly, I proceeded, "I don't want our family to know. These tattoos have branded me a villain for life, and I don't need anyone to think further ill of me."

To that, Kathy huffed disappointedly. "Showing Father may get him to rethink his decision. Get you free of those wretched circles!" She squeezed my wrists tightly.

I sighed again, "'Tis none of Father's concern anymore. What's more, he would not care. He wants me to suffer during my endeavors so that I will return home and become Rupert's steward, and I'm too stubborn to let that happen."

"Hmm," Kathy pondered. "Mayhap just as stubborn as Fisk? It seems both of you are determined to avoid certain lifestyles…"

I saw where this was going. "But at least being a squire allows him to travel! To be free. To do some good in this world," I argued.

"Yes, well, you don't have to convince me." She smiled cunningly. "I think you two should speak."

"I already told you, Fisk wants nothing more to do with me." I pulled my legs up to my chest, though it pained, and nestled my cheek atop my knees. I was suddenly so very tired, but where could I sleep? No inn would admit me now, not even the cheap and dirty ones. All I wanted in that moment was to disappear like vapor and find a soft bed where no one could hurt me, and then fall victim to my dreams.

Gently, Kathy smoothed back my unkempt hair and said, "It's your decision whether you want to talk to Fisk or not. I won't force it upon you, but I do think I should sit with him. He's probably in a lot of pain…"

"A healing house that reputable will have plenty of magica salve," I murmured in reassurance. Harsh wind like whip flays struck my bare back and made me shiver. "I'm sure Fisk is in the best hands. But you're right. You should be there when he wakes."

"And what about you?" she asked.

I shrugged. "I'll probably go back to Pierce's house and try to convince the sheriff to return my shirt and sword. Then mayhap I'll check on Chant and True, and look for Tipple. Hopefully the stable hands haven't sold her away yet."

"Michael, you need rest."

"I'll go back to our room if they'll have me. Word of my status may not have reached their ears yet."

Kathy sighed grumpily. "You really are a stubborn fool."

No, I was a cowardly fool, for the last thing I wanted to do was face Fisk after all I had done. I had ordered his _death. _I had betrayed him just as he had betrayed me in Tallowsport. Mayhap my obstinate resolve likened me to a self-imposed martyr, but I deserved this suffering.

By the gods, I had fallen far.

"I'll wait outside the healing house in the morning. By then, you and I should really make for Seven Oaks. If Father hasn't sent a search party after you yet, he will soon."

"But Fisk—"

"—I think you'll come to find that Fisk doesn't need anyone, Kathy. Not even you!" I snapped with sudden, unpredicted rage. Now where had that come from? Damn, I was so tired, I couldn't even think straight, let alone give my sister's feelings the care they so tenderly deserved. Teary-eyed, I turned my face away from her. "Go to him if you must, but you and I are leaving in the morning. I won't compromise on this."

I listened as Kathy grappled with angry words, but swallowed them down thickly. Her skirts rustled as she stumbled to her feet, and her storming footsteps thundered down the alleyway and disappeared. She didn't even cast one word over her shoulder as she left me behind, but I knew Kathy. She never believed what she didn't want to hear.

I only hoped Fisk would be gentler with her heart than I had been, but what did I care, so long as he ended what his letters had started? Mayhap 'twas time I wrote my squire off for good, the way he had when he left me.

_Say the name of the one you can live without._

Could I truly live without Fisk? Time would only tell.

With a new dose of gloom, I set off back to Pierce's house to collect my belongings in preparation for my leave.


	13. Fisk 7

**Chapter Thirteen: Fisk**

I fell asleep almost before the medical personnel could finish wrapping my torso in soft, herbal-smelling bandages. Though I had been fine as I recounted my version of the events to the sheriff, my condition rapidly declined as one of the healers led me away. Reality slipped through my fingers, but I knew I was somewhat safe and very tired, and my defenses dissolved in the careful hands of physicians. Images of Michael and Kathy fluttered through my mind as well as red-tinted pictures of Pierce, but they were only a backdrop in my spiral into exhaustion.

I did not understand many things until I woke the next morning to the gentle melody of Kathy's voice as she hummed an old noble hymn to herself. Jack taught me to assess my situation before I acted, and while I was learning to resent his many pieces of advice, old habits were hard to break. Besides Kathy's humming, I could hear the early morning bustle of physicians seeing to their patients, the clatter of herb jars, and the trickle of water washing away grime. I eventually blinked away the cloudy film over my eyes to see that, yes, Kathy sat at my bedside.

Surprised that her voice was not an illusion, I spent an embarrassingly long amount of time taking in her appearance. I could still hardly believe that she was actually here, but the bruises littered across her exposed skin were proof enough of the past events. At least she seemed to have washed and changed clothes, and I knew she looked a sight better than I did.

"Are you going to say hello?" she teased, twisting in her chair to face me. She smiled.

A blush colored my cheeks, and I turned over to stare up at the ceiling. Being bedridden limited my mobility, but I could improvise. "You should return home," I said.

"Now that's hardly a proper greeting, is it? A 'good morning' or 'thank you for saving my life' should precede such rude statements," she chided. Though she tried to keep good humor, I could sense some hurt underneath, and guilt curled in my stomach. However, my request was for her own good.

"I'm sorry," I greeted instead. A few moments passed in which Kathy assessed my condition, and I did much the same. I had never appreciated magica so much than when I managed to sit up and not scream in agony. Though I was sure the grotesque scars would remain forever, the pain in my chest was no more than a distant thrum, a discomfort more than a handicap. The small physician's bed actually had a headboard, and Kathy adjusted my pillow so I could lean against it and speak with her on a more even level.

There were three other beds in the room, but only two were occupied, and said residents remained deep in sleep. A healer hustled between them to adjust bandages, apply new medicine, and remove dirty laundry, and she paid little mind to Kathy and me.

"I hope you didn't sleep here," I said. Though the room was cozy enough, a healing house thick with the smell of sickness and herbs was hardly a proper place for a noble lady.

Kathy chuckled at my concern. "One of the healers let me take a nap on a cot in the back, but this chair is decently comfortable. I don't know when you last slept, but one late night does not bother me."

When had I last slept…? Such a simple thing floored me, for I could not bring an answer to the question. Just how long had I been held in Pierce's basement? Though I was free, in the sunlight once again, I could feel his influence like grime beneath my skin. I only hoped that I could distance myself from him and his darkness with time.

Kathy seemed to notice my change in mood, for she gave up on lighthearted small talk and sighed. "It was hardly your fault, you know. He used you to get to Jack, right?" she said.

Suddenly, I regretted every letter I ever sent Kathy. I really had used them to keep correspondence between Michael and his sister at first, but over time, the exchange became less like a report on Michael's doings and more a warm conversation between friends. I had allowed such weakness while Michael and I were travelling because it was easy enough to pretend that her warmth and good humor were directed at her brother. Even when I told her a little about Jack and she revealed a few things of herself that either Michael already knew or didn't care to know, I could remain under that farce.

I had every intention of ending the letters when I separated from Michael. I only wished I had been strong enough to stick to my decision.

"Yes," I admitted. "But you should not have had a part in it."

Kathy shrugged. "We are all safe now. That's what matters."

I also wished she wasn't so damned similar to her brother. It had taken months of terrible abuse before Michael had finally accepted that many people did not have the best of intentions. While Kathy had faced plenty in Pierce's basement, she still held onto that innocent naiveté. It would have been charming if it wasn't so dangerous.

"Speak for yourself," I grunted, shifting to sit up straighter. My chest no longer burned with the fire of eternal punishment, but the skin still tugged uncomfortably when I moved too carelessly.

"They used some of the magica from Pierce's stores, so you should heal quickly. I know it must still hurt terribly though," Kathy mourned.

If Michael had been at my bedside, I would have moaned and complained for hours, but as it was Kathy, I put on a brave face. "It's not that bad," I said. Though it was mostly true, she obviously saw right through my act, but she had the decency to smile sympathetically.

However, that sympathy quickly turned to a stern expression that eerily reminded me of my mother when I messed up a bit of sewing or played too rough with one of my sisters. "You do realize that you need to talk to Michael, right?"

My heart sunk, though I was not sure why. I should have seen that coming from the very beginning, but really, Kathy should have predicted my response as well. "There's no way. He doesn't want to see me, and I'm not going to force my presence on him," I said.

Now her expression of disapproval looked exactly like my mother's. "I swear, you two are impossible!" she exclaimed. "You both miss each other, and it's quite obvious that neither of you are handling life very well separated. You would be saving us all quite a bit of trouble if you would just talk things out already!"

Her voice rose with each impassioned word, and by the time she finished, the healer and one of the previously-sleeping patients were looking at us. A blush bloomed high on her cheeks, but Kathy refused to back down as she glared at me. These Sevensons were going to be the death of me, I could tell.

"I was doing just fine before Pierce got involved," I muttered, though my defense was weak. We both knew I was giving in, and my last efforts were more for my pride than anything else.

"Don't even bother with that sort of argument when we found you chained in a basement," Kathy dismissed.

"I suppose I do owe you a thank you," I admitted. "For recruiting Michael and bothering to find me. Your father is not going to be happy with you."

"No, but I think he will come around," Kathy said. I wondered just how she planned to ensure that, but I was quickly learning that there was no point in talking to any Sevenson through logic.

"I'm not sure about that. Where is Michael?" I asked, sealing my fate.

Kathy grinned as she replied, "He will be coming to fetch me outside the infirmary, but you will be going to meet him instead. Go somewhere private, so we don't all have to hear your lovers' quarrel."

"We're not—!" I screeched, my cheeks burning, but I cut myself off when I realized Kathy was laughing. Of course she was, and I hated myself for giving her the exact sort of reaction she had been hoping to gain. "Fine, fine. Your brother would be appalled to know how manipulative you are."

"He likes you well enough, doesn't he?" Kathy retorted.

"I'm not so sure," I muttered. Now that confrontation was certain, my stomach convulsed, and my limbs suddenly felt less like limbs and more like logs. What could I possibly say? What did Kathy or either of us hope to accomplish from this? Surely, it would only end in another argument, possibly one far worse than the first.

A hand laid on top of mine, and I looked up to see Kathy leaning in close. Her big eyes captured mine, and I felt my muscles relaxing despite the unchanged circumstances. "Look, I know that you're worried, but both of you are making a bigger deal of this than is needed. He cares about you, you know?"

I suddenly couldn't bear to hold her gaze and averted my eyes. "When is he coming?" I asked.

"Likely in a few hours," Kathy responded.

I sighed. "Do you know what happened to my clothes? I suppose I better at least clean myself up a bit."

…

With the help of the healers, I bathed and dressed in the clothes Kathy had retrieved from where I left them in the inn. The physicians also put a fresh layer of magica salve on my chest and rewrapped it with fresh bandages. I was a very different person from the one Michael had last seen, but that did nothing to help the nerves tingling up and down my spine.

"He should be outside by now," Kathy told me. I glanced at her to see if there was any chance of my getting out of this, but her steely gaze crushed my hopes.

"If he runs away the moment he sees me, I can't be held responsible," I warned.

"Stop being such an overdramatic coward," Kathy scolded. "He won't run away. Now go out and meet him before I physically pick you up and carry you there."

I sighed for perhaps the fourth time since Kathy insisted upon this ridiculous confrontation. Her eyes softened when she realized I wasn't just being stubborn. "I need to pick up a few things from the market to prepare for my journey home, so I'll be around. And besides Fisk… it's Michael."

Of course it was Michael. That was the whole point. The man who paid off my debts when all he knew of me was my con artist past. Who forced me to tag along on his utterly ridiculous and dangerous adventures. Who would rather take pain himself than watch someone else endure it. Who followed me when he thought I was in trouble.

Who I abandoned even though I knew he needed me.

Who still came to my aid even after that. Who saved my life when I did not deserve it in the slightest.

Yes, it was Michael, but that hardly made this any easier.

Nevertheless, I had procrastinated long enough, and Kathy looked as if she really would carry me outside if I didn't move soon. As I left the healing house, I realized that Kathy likely stayed behind in order to pay the physicians for my care. I inwardly vowed to settle with her later, though if she was anything like her brother, she allowed herself to be charged far more than was necessary. Then again, I supposed the price was worth my life.

When I stepped outside, the sunlight blinded me, and I blinked for several moments before I could focus on my surroundings. Spending so much time with only a candle had affected me more than I had thought, but that was hardly an immediate problem. Michael stood a respectable distance away from the healing house, and judging by his scowl, he had seen me and understood the implications.

With one last sigh, I walked over to him and stopped just far enough away that conversation was awkward. I felt I should give him the space to run if he wanted, but Michael stayed still and waited for me to speak. I realized that this was our first time to talk alone without the threat of imminent death hanging over us since I left him in Tallowsport. The fact did nothing to ease the obvious tension between us.

"How is your condition?" Michael inquired stiffly.

"Much better… They used magica, so I'm almost better than before. How are your injuries?" I followed up awkwardly. The simple fact that I used to be the one to deal with his wounds hung in the air between us, but to his credit, Michael swallowed thickly and moved past it.

"Kathy patched me up, so I'm fine," he said. His words tampered off into nothing, and we stood in silence for a few moments.

"Kathy demanded that we speak," I admitted. I couldn't quite bring myself to meet his eyes, so I stared around his stomach area. He did look better than the last time I had seen him, though considering he had been bleeding profusely, that said very little. Still, he looked like he'd rested and changed clothes, but there was something around his eyes that seemed different from when we used to travel together.

"So Kathy is behind this," he said. I was shocked by the resentment hiding behind the noble accent around his words. Perhaps he had been hoping I had made the choice myself?

I nodded and resisted the urge to sigh again. The stilted words and suffocating air were enough to drive a man mad. "Come on, Michael, she's not going to let us get out of this. We need to talk," I said.

He crossed his arms and evaluated me with a gaze that I had never seen on his face before. "For Kathy?" he asked.

I shrugged. "She also suggested we go somewhere private."

For a moment I though Michael would turn me down flat, but the fight seemed to bleed from his stance. That relieved me somewhat since he could probably beat me in a fight, and I wasn't sure just how angry he still was with me. "The innkeeper might not have cleaned out my room yet. Mayhap he will let us borrow it for another hour or two," he finally suggested.

Michael led the way to the inn, and I followed a few steps behind. We did not speak on the way there, and it might have been the longest amount of time I had spent with Michael in which we weren't talking, sleeping, or eating. The tension twisted its way around my throat, and I wondered if Michael could feel the awkwardness as well. I didn't understand how he could have possibly missed it.

Luckily, the innkeeper had yet to get to Michael's room, and he agreed to rent it to him for another few hours in exchange for an extra fare. I stepped in at that point to haggle with the fee, and Michael let me, an unreadable expression on his features. Finally, we settled on a decent price, and Michael and I ascended the stairs to the private room.

Michael opened the door to let me enter first, and he shut it behind him. Somehow, the click of the door sliding into place seemed ominous though that could have been my overactive imagination. We stood across from each other, neither knowing where to look or what to say.

I halfheartedly pointed to Michael's bare wrists in a desperate attempt to somewhat clear the air. "What happened to the wrist guards that Makejoye made you?" I asked.

Michael sat down on the bed, and in that moment, he looked a far cry from a fearless knight and more like a kicked puppy. Whether it was conscious or not, he crossed his arms to hide his wrists, and he couldn't quite look me in the eye. "I lost them while bathing in the river. 'Twas a foolish mistake," he admitted, blushing.

I grunted in lieu of a proper response, and though the loss was no fault of my own, I still felt strangely guilty. It was unnecessary. He was older than me anyway, and he'd managed fine on his own before me… though I had no idea how.

I wondered if I even had the right to ask, but I couldn't not… "Other than that, have you been taking care of yourself?"

Michael looked away, and his expression told me all I needed to know. The two gods knew that I had witnessed plenty of abuse toward Michael ever since he'd gotten his wrists tattooed, and I could only imagine what he'd suffered through since then. I hated myself for the guilt that flourished, for I should not have been held responsible for his mistakes. I kept telling myself that it wasn't my problem.

Finally, Michael shrugged. "I've managed well enough on my own."

Liar. He never was a good one.

Tension once again settled between us, and I knew further small talk would get us nowhere. If we were going to suffer through this, we had to approach the problem directly. "What possessed you to come after me?" I demanded.

Perhaps it was the bluntness or the slightly angry tone, but Michael finally looked up and met my gaze. "Kathy asked me to—"

"I don't mean that," I snapped, growing impatient with dancing around the subject. "Even if Kathy did come to you about me, you had no proof that I was even in danger. And even if you did, you have no obligation to me." The unspoken 'anymore' lingered at the end of the sentence.

"Are you complaining?" Michael questioned. "You didn't seem to be in a position that you could refuse help… even from someone you cast aside."

A blush bloomed high on my cheeks, and I turned sharply away. Humiliation at my vulnerability curled in my stomach as I remembered how Michael found me. First, in the marketplace, being beaten and treated like a slave. Then in the basement, tortured and chained. No, I had certainly not been in a position to turn down help, and I could not even truly blame Michael for what he said next.

"You said that Jack and I were equal. That he saved your life more times than I had." I could hear the raw hurt in Michael's voice, and as much as I wanted to beg him to stop, I could only close my eyes and wait for his painful words. "'Twas Jack that put you in that position with Pierce, but I helped you when he didn't. Mayhap Kathy did more than I, and mayhap I failed you, but I tried. Did he ever do that for you?"

I turned completely away, and while Jack used to say that you should never show your enemy your back… Well, Michael was far from my enemy, and perhaps it was time that I stopped quoting Jack in my mind anyway. Besides, I needed a moment to control my expression, and I would rather have done that turned away from Michael.

I should have known he would go to that. I knew how much it hurt him when I implied that Jack was a better friend than he even if he had betrayed me at the end. And considering that it was Jack's fault that I had found myself in the hands of a sadist, I could hardly argue with Michael, and he knew it.

"Did he?" Michael repeated. I wondered what had taken place in our time apart that had made him cruel.

"What do you want me to say, Michael?" I said. "I'm sorry'? Or that you were right? Do you want me to play knights and squires with you again?"

I wondered what had taken place in our time apart that had made me so cruel. The last part was unnecessary, and I knew it would hurt him in a way that I wasn't sure he could handle, but I said it anyway. I heard the bed springs creak as Michael rose to his feet, and I wondered if he would hit me. I couldn't say I would blame him.

"So it really did all mean nothing to you," he said coldly. I didn't have to turn around to know that his eyes glimmered with pain and anger. "Justice. Good deeds. Adventures. Why did you stick around all that time, Fisk? I would say it must have been the money, but the gods know we never had much. So why did you stay so long when you were clearly dying to leave at a moment's notice?"

Why did I stay?

My hands clenched into fists so tightly that my fingernails dug into the soft flesh of my palms. The way he spoke… Like I was just waiting for the opportune moment to betray him… Perhaps the jab hurt so much because it was true for a very long time. Even when I owed him a debt, I looked for every opportunity to leave him in the dust. When had that changed? When did I become willing to chain myself to his side out of something akin to loyalty?

And when did I stop?

"I followed you for two years, Michael. I went along on your crazy quests. You were mad, but I still stuck around through the terrible weather, the camping, the odd jobs, the abuse. How many times were we nearly killed?" My voice was dead, emotionless. Then again, that conveyed far more emotion than I could voice in words.

"I thought the good parts made it worth it to you," Michael practically whispered.

They did. Though some nights were miserable when Michael's tattoos prevented us from finding a proper inn and we sometimes had to work hard to gain a decent meal, we did have some good times. Sleeping under the stars on summer nights. Riding the horses from town to town. Meeting people of every profession and personality. Living off the land. I always was a townsman, but I could appreciate the wilderness occasionally. At least when the weather was mild.

Yet I still left. Not because I hated Michael or hated being at his side but because I felt like I was losing myself in his dream. I could barely remember who I was anymore when my first thoughts were of how Michael would react to a situation. I needed to separate to remind myself of who I was. I may have been little more than a con artist, but that was my identity, and I had earned it.

Perhaps I hadn't managed so well on my own. Pierce might have been a fluke, but others might have called it fate that my past had caught up with me and nearly killed me. Still, whatever happened to me was due to choices I had made myself.

"They did," I said. "For a while."


	14. Michael 7

**Chapter Fourteen: Michael**

"For a while," I repeated softly. Slowly, I backed away from Fisk and hung my head. I didn't hope for his pity, but it suddenly struck me that I barely possessed the strength to stand up straight. I staggered backward until the backs of my knees collided with the mattress, and I sank down once again.

"What more can I say?" Fisk bit back with more force than 'twas necessary. He appeared quite the sight with the rumpled folds of bandages lumped beneath his shirt and an herb-infused cloth tied around his throat, though I had to admit, he looked far stronger than he had when I'd found him chained inside Pierce's basement. Mayhap the physicians had nourished him just as well as they had healed him? I almost asked, and then remembered the reason for our meeting.

Instead, I glanced down at my tattooed wrists. During my years as an unredeemed man, I'd learned that most people were less likely to abuse me if I lowered my eyes in acknowledgement to my shame before they had time to attack. 'Twas cursed cowardly, but after the last few months on my own, my courage had all but bled dry, and stooping beneath Fisk's heated glower didn't help matters much.

"Nothing, I suppose," I murmured back. "I only thought that mayhap the good memories would help you change your mind."

"Change my mind about what?" Fisk snapped. "Following you across the bloody realm, poking our noses in other peoples' business, nearly getting ourselves eviscerated by every madman to ever go mad?"

"No. Helping people! Seeing justice done where it is due! You can't tell me that it never mattered to you, Fisk. What about your sisters? We risked our lives to clear your brother-in-law's name back then. We saw justice done because _you _wanted it!"

"And where was my justice in the end, huh? If justice is so damn fair, then how come Maxwell cut me off from my family again? Where's the fairness in that, Noble Sir?"

"That's different and you know it," I retorted, though I wasn't entirely sure it was. I knew bringing up Fisk's sisters would wound him deeply, but my anger lashed out before rational thought could assume control over my tongue. However, I also knew that there was no convincing him. Fisk had made up his mind back in Tallowsport, and I hadn't come all the way to Havenport to beg for my friend back.

But it had been worth the try.

I willed myself to keep my watery eyes set on the floorboards as I prepared myself for defeat. "Just do me one favor," I said with all the steel I could muster. "Stop writing to Kathy."

Even Fisk fell silent. I wish I could have looked him in the eyes when I demanded it, but I'm not my father. I don't like watching as other men's hearts break.

"Fine. I can do that. Easy," said Fisk, his voice disguised to sound unfeeling. It cracked under the weight of his last word. "I'm sorry I got her involved. It was never my intention."

I nodded shortly. What else was there to say?

The shuffle of footsteps told me that Fisk was halfway to the door. The lock released and the rusty hinges creaked, but no slam followed. Rather, a tense, silent moment passed, and then a self-loathing sigh ripped from my old squire's throat. Softly, he said, "You know I could never just hand my life over to you, right?"

Horrified, I glanced up. "I've never asked you to!"

"In a way you did. You're so utterly helpless, you know that? It's infuriating! Like keeping watch over a crawling babe!"

I didn't know whether to feel insulted or not, for Fisk's words rang with inarguable truth, though they did smart my pride, if only a little. "I believe 'twas you I found imprisoned inside a lunatic's basement, and not the other way around," I reminded coolly.

"I never asked you to save me! _And _I never asked you to bargain your life over to Pierce! And what a harebrained idea that was! You almost got us all killed."

I flinched, and quite viciously, too. 'Twas clear Fisk had struck a tender nerve. At least he hadn't brought up the shameful fact that I'd condemned his life in exchange for Kathy's freedom. Truthfully, any recollection of our experience inside Pierce's basement sent waves of shivers down my arms, right down to my marked wrists. Finally, bitter tears slipped down my cheeks, and horn and hoof if Fisk saw them! He already thought me weak, a man stuck living inside a boy's fantasy. How could a few tears worsen his impression of me?

"I'm sorry," I whispered. "I know I failed you last night, but I would have done you a greater disservice if I'd never come after you at all."

Fisk snorted rudely. "True, but you don't have to sound so damn noble about it."

"I'm not trying to," I croaked. "What I'm trying to say is that I'm glad you're…safe."

All I heard next was Fisk's thick swallow. Vaguely, I wondered if such a bodily action pained his injured throat. He didn't give me time to ask. Sighing, he said, "You have nothing to be sorry for. We all got away from Pierce alive, and thanks to you. I never thought you had the guts to do what you did."

Quivering breaths leaked past my lips as I recalled slipping my scalpel between Pierce's shoulder blades, straight through cloth and soft, vulnerable flesh, and all because a world without Fisk was too miserable to imagine. "Kathy said you told the sheriff 'twas you who murdered that son of a bitch." I met Fisk's eyes, finally. "Will you be charged?"

"Of course not. It was self-defense. Now _there's _your justice."

"You've changed, Fisk."

"No, I simply remembered who I am. I think your lunatic quests brainwashed me into forgetting _my _dreams." A brief pause punctuated Fisk's shifting thoughts, and even he seemed to regret the ice in his voice. He gazed around the room feebly, as if desperate for some hint that would help him bridge the gap between his tangents. "Look, Michael, I don't despise you or anything. I just… I can't keep living this way. I can't be fixed to someone's side forever, least of all yours."

"And why not?" I asked on impulse, and blushed. 'Twas a humiliating outburst, but Fisk interpreted it as an honest inquiry. I watched as his sallow face faded out of rage and into a new expression, this one bleaker than gray morning clouds.

Then the storm burst. "Blast it all! You know about Jack. You know how blindly I trusted him, even up till the day he sold me out! And look what's become of me!"

He threw his arms up wildly, a movement that would have upset his injuries if not for the heavy dosages of magica keeping him erect. "The man betrayed me—even allowed you to be thrown over a blasted cliff—but I still could not reveal his whereabouts to Pierce. Jack, he…" Fisk sniffed and used his sleeve to rub his nose, his dark eyes cast aside. "Jack has my loyalty. It's been that way for years. Doesn't matter what he's done or what damn crime he'll commit next. I'll never betray him, and you just _never understood that._"

I thought about how Fisk had been more than willing to reveal everything about Jack to Pierce in order to save mine and Kathy's lives. Granted, Pierce no longer needed Jack once he had me chained to his torture table, but Fisk's declaration had been resolute. Or had that been an act, as well?

"I would have told Pierce anything to free you and Kathy," Fisk explained before I could ask. "I know Jack can evade thugs like Pierce when he needs to, but when I saw you and Kathy chained up, I… You made things very difficult for me, Noble Sir. I might have died, yes, but you two…"

"You think I would betray you," I stated rather than asked. I was still mulling over what he'd said about his loyalties to Jack Bannister, and the implication in his words hit me clearer than a bolt from the sky. "That's why you left me. Because you believed I would eventually desert you the way Jack did."

'Twas clear from his pained reaction that I saw right through his farce. Fisk crossed his arms defensively. "It might have been one of the reasons, but does it matter? I have to move on, Michael. I can't be your squire anymore. It looks bloody terrible on job applications."

It might have been a joke, for Fisk is often comical, but I knew he was only insulting my trade further. Still, a sense of honor overcame my indignity, and I said, "You know I would never betray you, right? Mayhap you left my side for other reasons, but I do hope you know me better than that!"

"Of course I do, Michael, but let's face it. One of these days, the world is going to hurt you so badly that you'll go running back to Seven Oaks with your tail between your legs. I've watched it happen to many a man before you, and when it happens, where will that leave me, huh?"

"I will not return to Seven Oaks," I said indignantly.

"You say that now, but someday, those circles on your wrists are going to break your resolve. That's why your father had you tattooed in the first place!"

"I will _not _become Rupert's steward. You know that!"

"I _know_ you're a stubborn fool who can't see past the here and now. And that's what I'm doing, Michael. I'm looking ahead. Look, you saved my life last night, and despite everything, I'm eternally grateful. I took the fall for Pierce's death, so you're as free as can be. It's time we part ways."

The solemn finality in his words stung worse than any insult to my dreams ever could. Gaping, I watched as Fisk opened the door once more. I wanted to clench my hair like I had the first time he'd left me, mayhap even follow him down the hall, or better yet, tackle him to the ground. Instead, I let him go. I hugged my chest, dropped my gaze, and waited for the click of the bolt, the disappearance of his familiar footsteps, the last of his sighs to drown away as he descended the stairs…

I was alone again. Of course, I always had been. I'd never expected to win Fisk's friendship when I came to save him, but now that I knew some of the reasons behind his desertion, I felt gloomier than I had after he abandoned me in Tallowsport. 'Twould be the last time I ever saw Fisk again, and I supposed we'd shared some fond memories in the past, but who was I fooling? The life I'd chosen was a rugged one—a cycle of starvation, poverty, danger, escapes, and adventures. No sane man would ever choose such a life, and Fisk is as sane as I am crazy. I knew 'twas time for him to move on.

Then a truly frigid thought pelted me like ice sliding down my spine: Had my time as a knight errant come to an end, as well?

After all, what is a knight errant without his squire?

Suddenly, the inn room felt as tightly cramped as a coffin, and as much as I yearned to escape it, I did not want to run into Fisk on my way outside, nor did I feel much like facing Kathy. No doubt she would be ready to murder me when she found out I'd ordered Fisk to stop writing her.

And what a true shame that was, too, because for all of my loaded threats, I'd witnessed Kathy and Fisk's reunion deep inside Pierce's basement, and I had to admit, no seething fire had erupted in my soul when I saw how gently Fisk had treated my sister. He'd even been willing to die in her stead, which is no small sacrifice coming from a man as selfish as Fisk. Despite their many differences and the complications that their relationship would have created, he and my sister may have been perfect together…

Suddenly, there was a knock on the door.

No doubt 'twas Kathy coming to check on our progress. Or mayhap she had seen Fisk leave the inn! Had she tried to stop him? Gods, if I found her in tears, I would chase Fisk down the streets of Havenport until I caught him by the scruff of his neck and—

I opened the door and found Fisk leaning against the doorframe, his arms crossed and his face downcast. He'd always stood a head shorter than me, but for the first time since I'd known him, he actually looked small, even defeated. I backed up into the room and watched as he edged his way inside, his legs buckling. I wondered if he needed a second dosage of magica salve, but Fisk steadied himself by leaning heavily against the writing desk next to the door. His stern eyes met mine.

"You're wrong about a lot of things," he said brusquely. "You're a half-mad idiot who practically reverences trouble, and your lunatic ways will no doubt get you killed one day. I'll never see eye to eye with the law, and you can bet your sorry arse that I'll never become an honorable man or worship justice the way you do, but you saved my life last night, and that, Noble Sir, is a debt that I have no choice but to repay."

I was so stunned by his jaded words that I hardly interpreted the last part of his speech. Mayhap I was still exhausted from the night's adventures, but I could hardly believe after every angry defense he'd made that Fisk now stood before me offering himself to be my…to be my…

"I suppose this is different from me being unredeemed, like I was when you paid my debt in Deepbend," Fisk went on to sigh loudly, as if greatly inconvenienced. "This has nothing to do with me righting some wrong I committed. Just a debt between two men which needs settling, so don't go reporting it to the judicars or anything."

"Fisk," I rasped. A lump choked off the rest of my voice.

"Now, now, before we seal any deals, I have some conditions which require discussion. Under no circumstances, no matter how bloody noble they seem or how many henchmen beg you, I _will not _rescue any damsels from stone towers. Nor will I help you take down any more corrupt businessmen."

"Fisk—"

"Let me finish, Noble Sir. If by some dreadful stroke of luck we happen to be cudgel-crewed again, my debt to you will be repaid the moment we step ashore. And no more dogs! We can hardly feed ourselves when we travel, let alone a smelly mutt—"

"Fisk." I couldn't help but interrupt. Just hearing his words… Even my legs felt weak with disbelief.

"Whoa, Mike, come on. Sit down. Did you get _any _rest last night?" Gently, Fisk helped me sit back down on the bed. I couldn't decide if the tears streaming down my cheeks were tears of self-pity or of joy. I supposed it did not matter, for I clung to Fisk's shoulders all the same.

"Hey, come on, don't go blubbering. I'm only trying to do the right thing here. And don't go thinking that our disagreement is over, because it isn't. There are still a lot of things that I need you to understand before I take off with you again."

"I'll listen, I promise," I vowed, still holding him tightly. When he winced in pain, I loosened my grip and pulled back, my cheeks mantled red. I decided 'twas pointless to remind him that taking the fall for Pierce's death, no matter how dishonest, more than repaid any debt he owed me, for 'twas clear from the reluctance in Fisk's eyes that he knew it. And yet…

Exhaustion suddenly weighed heavily down on me. After a long night of hunting down Tipple and recovering my gear from Pierce's house, I'd only slept for a few hours before waking to collect Kathy. Now that I had Fisk to look after me once again, I felt safe enough to sleep for ages.

But still, Kathy would be waiting. Fisk seemed to be thinking the same thing.

"Do you love her?" I found myself asking, and quite randomly, mind. My newly returned squire's eyes widened in undeniable surprise.

"L-Love?" he sputtered. "That's certainly a strong word."

"Well, do you share amorous feelings for her?"

"If I say yes, are you going to throttle me?"

For the first time in what felt like a century, I threw my head back and laughed, a cursed pathetic sound when mixed with the gargling choke of my sobs, but it didn't matter. Tentatively, Fisk chuckled as well.

I knew Fisk spoke the truth when he said we still had much to discuss, and I could tell by the severity in his eyes that he wasn't entirely thrilled to be giving up his pride, but just as Fisk had many reasons for leaving me, he also had plenty for staying, and I intended to stay awake for as many nights as it took for him to explain them all to me. If he chose to, of course.

My squire may be a complex man, but he is still exactly that: My loyal squire to the bitter end.


	15. Fisk 8

**Chapter Fifteen: Fisk**

While I still wasn't quite certain about my decision, Michael's laugh, something I had not heard in a very long time, eased the anxiety in my stomach, and I smiled weakly in return and even chuckled a bit myself. Was this the right thing to do? I had no idea at this point. The emotions clogging my throat weren't all identifiable, and I wasn't sure if I regretted returning or not.

Nevertheless, what I said wasn't untruthful. Michael and Kathy risked a lot for me when they didn't have to, and though my taking the blame for Pierce's murder repaid that debt partly, it wasn't enough, not really. Not for what they did.

Pain prickled around my scars at the memory, and I suddenly regretted leaving the healing house so soon. I would not have minded another dose of magica, but I had survived long without it, and I supposed I could suffer through the last of the pain on my own. However, I did sit on the bed next to Michael to ease some of the pressure on my abdominal muscles.

I knew we still had plenty to talk about, but I didn't think either of us had the energy at this point. We had both dealt with long nights recently, and the argument no doubt exhausted us emotionally. We both deserved a few moments of quiet.

"I- We should find Kathy," Michael said finally. Though I could faintly see the evidence of his tears around his eyes, he had composed himself and actually looked better than before, especially when he realized which pronoun he could now use. My decision seemed to be working out well so far… I could only hope the long-term effects would prove pleasing as well.

"She said she would be gathering supplies for her trip home in the market," I supplied. We rose together and thanked the innkeeper on our way out. I tried to judge by his expression how thin his walls were, but he kept his face suspiciously blank. Since I already knew I would never be visiting this town again, I decided to push it from my mind.

We started to begin our search at the bazaar, but Kathy met us just a block away from the inn, apparently on her way to fetch us. A bright smile broke across her face.

"So you're both still alive," she greeted. "I see no fresh bruises. The sheriff hasn't been called about any damage. Can I take these all as good signs?"

I cleared my throat uncomfortably and looked away, but I could practically feel the smile radiating from Michael.

"We are on good terms," he said. Then, Michael turned to me as if asking for my permission to say more. I raised an eyebrow at him, but I realized that he was trying. He just still wasn't quite sure of what I wanted from him in our new arrangement.

Before I could decide that for myself, Kathy made a noise in her throat and stood a little straighter. We both turned to face her, and a bad feeling curled in my stomach, a notion that only intensified when a smug little smirk played around the corner of her mouth. I analyzed her appearance and surroundings for some clue as to what she would say next, and I noticed that she was already dressed to travel in a relatively common green dress. She had pulled her hair back in a braid, and I couldn't help but appreciate how the style accented her noble features.

"Now as I was preparing for my journey home, I was thinking," Kathy confided. "And I have decided that since I helped the two of you in your respective dilemmas, you will both escort me home. Besides, I sent the tracker away."

I could tell that Kathy had thought of this scheme in case we hadn't managed to work things out on her own. After all, what better way to bring us closer than by forcing us on a long journey together?

"Kathy, I planned to escort you home no matter what," Michael said.

"Yes," Kathy sighed, "but-"

"And I also planned to help as well," I said. There was no hiding it, and I might as well have sealed my promise then. Michael positively beamed, and Kathy's mouth dropped open.

"Oh… Well, that works out quite well then," she decided and then smiled. Her gaze alternated between the two of us, and though I couldn't guess at what she was thinking, we must have pleased her because she gestured that we follow her. "I bought everything we would need, enough for three people. You two have Chant and Tipple of course, and I have my mare. All the supplies are waiting with them in the stables, along with True of course, and I told the stable boy we wouldn't be long, so we really must go now."

Kathy gestured wildly with her hands as she marched ahead of us, and Michael and I followed her all the way to the stables. In the midst of her chatter, Michael and I exchanged expressions of good-natured long-suffering and then of shock when we realized what we had shared. Perhaps it would not take us so long to reconnect after all.

Michael beamed. Still unsure, I refocused my gaze on Kathy.

When we reached the stables, Kathy had indeed prepared everything for us. All three horses were saddled and loaded with whatever we would need during the journey to Seven Oaks. A trip I was not all together looking forward to. The last time I had visited the Sevenson home, Michael had been tattooed, and our lives of hardship had begun. I could only hope this trip would not end in the same vein.

Kathy paid the stable boy – way too much, I noticed, these Sevensons would never learn the useful skill of haggling - and we left the cursed port. I, for one, definitely did not look back. My scars twitched at the memory of chains, suffocating water, blades, and a single candle, but I firmly pushed them from my mind. It was over. I focused on Kathy and Michael and told myself again. It was over.

Kathy waited until we were deep on the forest path, the sight of Havenport long disappeared behind us, before she slowed her horse, so she walked between Michael and me. "So," she began, her perceptive eyes darting from him to me and then back again. "I filled in as Michael's squire during our rescue. Mayhap I no longer have to…?" She was not nearly as subtle as she likely thought she was.

"No, for the time being at least, I'll fill in the cursed role," I said dryly.

Michael shot me a hesitant look, and I almost regretted my lack of enthusiasm. His feelings were so fragile at the moment, and our relationship was not yet on solid ground.

Kathy, however, took my response as the most positive of replies. "Marvelous!" she exclaimed. "Though I will miss the adventure… Well, at least, pieces of it. And you two will visit, won't you? Mother misses you desperately, Michael, and I miss you as well… Both of you."

I winced, and Michael looked distinctly uncomfortable. I still wasn't quite sure on how Michael stood with our tentative relationship, but I could tell he wasn't exactly pleased. Our brief conversation about it hardly counted as much at all, but Kathy didn't seem to notice the tension. Then again, she likely just ignored it.

"Mayhap not for some time, Kathy," Michael responded quietly. I wondered if he was thinking of my prediction, how I expected him to slink back to Seven Oaks one day when he had finally had enough of knight errantry. That had been a low blow, I admitted. I had said many things I probably shouldn't have, but he still wanted me. Perhaps that said more than I had.

Then Michael inquired about the family, and Kathy chattered about their brothers. After several miles of family gossip, Kathy asked me about a few literature pieces she had recently read. I could give decent opinions on all but the ballad cycle. Still, the small talk achieved the desired effect, and we all relaxed a bit into our saddles.

When the sun began to sink to the west, Kathy suggested that we find an inn for the night. A year ago, the proposal would have shocked me, for Michael and I rarely had the money for such a luxury. However, I still had a portion of the reward money for the Rose, and I knew Kathy could afford anything she desired. As for Michael, I'm sure we would share a room.

The Green Moon began to shine before we managed to spot a town and then a place reputable enough for a lady. I volunteered to put up the horses in the stables since I knew Michael was exhausted, but as I unsaddled the three of them, I couldn't help but think of all the money I would be losing by allowing the Sevensons to handle the price once again. I tried to put the thought from my mind and focus on brushing the horses down instead.

"Kathy bought a room for herself and a room for the two of us. I hope that's all right."

I peeked above Chant's back to see Michael approaching us, his eyes watching the ground more than where he was going. I started to warn him that this wasn't wise in a horse stable, but then his words caught up to me. "Of course. I thought that's how we would do it anyway," I said.

He nodded and absentmindedly petted Tipple. I had tied the three horses to the door of the stall we had rented so that I could prepare them all more efficiently. True, the useless mutt, was already asleep in the fresh hay. "I just didn't know if… our arrangement had changed in that aspect," Michael admitted.

I wished he would look at me instead of averting his eyes. If he could have read my expression, I would not have been forced to say embarrassing emotional things out loud. "I have to save money wherever I can when you two are the ones haggling the price. One room for us is fine," I assured him. "That's what we used to do."

"When we could," Michael corrected, and I could see the hints of a small smile.

"Yes," I snorted. "The rare, fleeting moments when we could."

"Do you need help here? I can borrow a brush from the stable boy," he offered. I could tell he wanted to help, to split up the chores as we used to do and perhaps to prove how he was willing to put more of an effort in, but I had seen him earlier.

I shook my head. "No, you're tired, and you didn't sleep much last night. Go on to bed. I'm almost finished anyway."

Michael looked as if he wanted to argue, but a strange expression crossed over his face, and he nodded. "I'll go then. Don't… Ah, goodnight." His gait seemed awkward as he left the stable.

I returned to brushing Chant, thankful for the mindless task as I mulled over my thoughts. Michael clearly wasn't sure how to act around me, and though I supposed I should have been grateful that he wanted to be considerate of my wants, to use his words from the past, he didn't have to work so hard for it.

I quickly finished with the horses and put them away for the night. After asking the innkeeper for the correct room and confirming my identity, I slipped into the room as quietly as I possibly could. Michael's form curled into the blankets on his own bed, I was pleased to see, and I took to my own. Exhaustion hit me unexpectedly as the long day of emotional turmoil and travel caught up with me, and I fell to the bed without changing clothes.

"You should at least take your boots off."

I sighed and turned my head to face the speaking lump across the room. "You should be asleep."

The bundle of blankets grunted noncommittally.

Perhaps with more noise than necessary, I removed my boots and fell to the bed again. The mattress welcomed me with the soft touch of a lover, and I willingly submitted to her embrace. Last night, I had been in the healing house which was not so bad, but many nights before that, I had been chained, bleeding and broken, in the basement of a madman. The darkness didn't quite sit well with me – perhaps one of the reasons I had lingered in the stables where the stalls were lit with lanterns – so I tried to focus on the warmth of the mattress, a distinct opposite from where I had been before.

I must have fallen asleep because I woke up a sweaty mess moments later. A gentle hand grasped my shoulder and shook me hesitantly and then harder when I apparently didn't react quickly enough. I scrambled to a sitting position, and when I started to panic at being tangled in the blanket, someone pulled the sheets away. I leaned forward to rest my head between my knees and tried to slow my panting breaths.

My chest burned, and I wasn't sure if it was the excessive movement or the memories. Images of what had been part dream and part flashback rose unbidden in my mind, and each one forced me to stop breathing and then to pant heavier. The same gentle hand rested on my back, occasionally rubbing circles, until the images stopped coming so fast, and I could breathe at a decently even pace.

"Thank you," I choked out.

Michael pulled his hand away from my back. "You were tossing… crying out. I felt it would be better to wake you than to let you live through it again." His voice was quiet in the midst of night, and I wondered if he was rethinking his desire to have me at his side.

"I'm sorry." I was pathetic, but I couldn't bring myself to lift my head quite yet. Though he had likely seen enough in the darkness to tell my vulnerable position, I refused to confirm the presence of my tears, instead willing them to dry up and leave me be.

"The strongest man would suffer through nightmares after enduring what you did," he supplied softly.

"I never claimed to be the strongest," I snapped. I shouldn't have been irritable when he was trying to help, but somehow pity only made it worse. My fragile pride could not take much more of this.

The mattress dipped and swelled as Michael sat down on the bed. "I know," he said. "I was only saying."

I grunted vaguely, and I wished he would return to his own bed to let me suffer alone. This would no doubt be the first of many long and painful nights, and I wanted nothing more than to pretend they weren't happening. I only hoped Michael would catch on eventually.

"Mayhap we can find an herbalist with the proper salve," Michael suggested, pointing to where I clutched my abdomen.

I changed my mind, for the small talk in the dark atmosphere was worse. I sighed. "I wanted to tell you… And I suppose now is as good a time as any," I decided. "Thank you for saving me in Pierce's basement."

"You already-"

"No, I know I already thanked you for saving me. I mean… Thank you for saving me in the only way you could. I know how you feel about using your magica, and I know what it took for you to do what you did, so… thank you."

I didn't dare look up, so I kept my eyes trained to the sheets and listened for Michael's reaction. He tensed and remained quiet for a long time, but then the mattress shifted as he did. "There's no need to thank me. You were in trouble, and I did what I could. I would do it again," he whispered.

The second part surprised me, and I was thankful that my face was hidden. As Michael had been born with an unnatural amount of nobility, I had thought the event had taken place as an act of passion, a desperate act from a desperate man. It had not occurred to me until then that my life might still have been intact because of that nobility, not despite of the trait.

"You don't really owe me, you know," Michael said.

Curse him. He never had been good at knowing when to acknowledge things and when to leave them alone. Not for the first time, I wondered how he had managed to navigate the world before he acquired a squire. "Possibly. But I do owe Kathy, so I'll continue to escort her home," I insisted.

Michael didn't say anything further, and I was thankful. After a few more moments of careful breathing, I lifted my head and blinked my eyes until they adjusted to the dim starlight and what little illumination the two moons cast through the window. Not a single candle.

"Are you okay?" Michael inquired. Genuine concern leaked into his voice, and I almost wished he wouldn't. It was one more reminder of my weakness.

"I'll be fine," I said.

He nodded, and his hands fidgeted with the sheets. Now that I had finally opened my eyes, I could see he was giving away almost every tell of a person with something to hide. "Okay, spit it out," I demanded.

"W-what?" he sputtered.

"You have something to say or something to ask, and you might as well get it out now, or neither of us is going to get any proper sleep tonight," I pointed out.

Michael sighed and released the mangled sheets from his hold. He took a deep breath and then practically blurted the next question out. "Did you meet up with Jack after you left me?"

Now it was my time to sputter. "W-what?"

Michael actually looked offended. "'Tis a reasonable question. You abandoned me moments after you released him, and months later, I find you facing a madman for something related to him."

I held back a groan and leaned back against the headboard. I hadn't thought of how the situation looked from that point of view, but I supposed Michael wasn't entirely insane for coming to that conclusion. "No," I answered him. "The last I saw of Jack was in Tallowsport, and he made it quite clear that Tallowsport would remain the last I would see of him. Pierce was desperate for any link to him, no matter how old."

I could practically see Michael processing the information, and I wondered if it even crossed his mind to consider if I was lying. I wasn't of course, but I was curious if his trust in me had fallen that far. Whether the thought did enter his mind or not, he nodded his head and seemed to accept my story. However, he was starting to give off the tells again, but I was not going to go into the details of how Jack left me for a final time. No, not tonight.

"You should go back to sleep, Noble Sir," I suggested. "You don't want to be tired again tomorrow. Kathy would not be happy."

Michael chuckled lightly at the reminder of his sister who could be a bit on the motherly side at times, bless her. He stood up but hesitated. "Are you sure you'll be all right?" he asked.

"I'm a big boy," I replied drily.

Michael looked like he wanted to say more, but perhaps he was considering the new boundaries of our relationship again. He returned to his own bed, and I laid back down in mine.

I didn't dare fall back asleep for fear of the nightmares that would await me.


	16. Michael 8

**Chapter Sixteen: Michael**

Days passed, and if not for Kathy, I'm not sure they would have been pleasant ones. As hard as I tried to be a friend to Fisk, he still seemed reluctant to have me. I almost found myself growing jealous of my sister, a notion that forced me to face how absurdly dependent I had become on another man. Mayhap Fisk did not want me to try so hard. After a few days of traveling, I decided to give him more space.

On nights when we did not come across any towns, Fisk, Kathy, and I camped in makeshift shelters like caves, concealing bushes, even clearings beside the river. I always volunteered to find the firewood, for my enhanced sensing abilities enabled me to avoid magica bark, and every time I returned with the kindling, I found Fisk and Kathy seated close side by side and trapped in deep conversation. One time, I returned so suddenly that I witnessed Fisk's hand fly off my sister's knee with enough speed to sprain his wrist.

I never asked to know what they spoke about for fear of invading their privacy, but I had to admit, I was curious. Fisk did not strike me as a man ready to settle down with a wife, but I _did _recall a conversation he and I had shared when we first became a knight and squire duo. If I remembered correctly, he confessed to welcoming any maiden to his bed, so long as she was clean, attractive, and worth the stolen purse he would find missing in the morning.

Of course, I knew Fisk well enough to know that he would never take advantage of Kathy (and if he did, I hoped he wouldn't mind when I cut off his fertility), so I pushed the thought from my mind. Whatever mysteries their conversations held, they bore decent results, for Kathy went to bed grinning ear to ear every night.

Oftentimes, our nights were disrupted by Fisk's nightmares. Although I longed to help, 'twas Kathy who shot to his bedside at his first fearful whimpers. I knew it disgraced Fisk to show his weakness, especially in front of Kathy, so I resigned to feign sleep while he recovered from his cruel dreams. 'Twould be better for his pride if he thought at least one of us never knew he suffered every night.

But I did eavesdrop on their whispered talks. 'Twas shameful and dishonest, but I convinced myself that 'twas for Kathy's wellbeing that I listened in.

"They'll pass in time. Give it a week or so, and 'twill all be a distant memory," Kathy promised. Based on Fisk's ragged breathing, I knew she rubbed soothing circles over his back while he shook with plaguing memories too dark to fathom.

"I know, but I wish they'd stop now. I can't even close my eyes without remembering…"

Even though he was dead, my hatred for Pierce grew fiercer every time Fisk woke cursing and sweating from a nightmare, and in time, my regret for killing the bastard dwindled into nothing. Did that make me a monster? As horrid as it seemed, I truly did not care.

More days passed, and the world regained a sense of familiarity. I recognized the golden hillsides of the surrounding country with blissful nostalgia, as well as the rivers that snaked through the valleys in bends and rapids. Although parts of the land glimmered with eerie traces of magica, I basked in the beauty of my homeland and wondered, not for the first time, if settling down in such a place would be the worst thing in the world.

I supposed it would if such beauty were tarnished by the stacks of ledgers and paperwork that awaited me in a steward's office. After three long years, the thought of tying myself down to Seven Oaks still abhorred me. I considered voicing as much to Fisk, who still believed I would one day cave to Father's wishes, but I noticed he and Kathy were holding yet another private conversation. Obviously I was unwanted.

Soon, the century-old towering keep my father owned appeared alongside the road, ten minutes from the river. The plastered timber walls shrouded in ivy unleashed the onslaught of childhood memories—some pleasant, and some marked with disenchantment. 'Twas here I had argued with Father and made my choice to scour the world as a knight errant. 'Twas also here that my doom and destiny lurked hand in hand, if of course, I ever gave into it.

The seven oak trees, three on each side and one at the head, loomed like guardsmen over the property as I steered Chant off the road and up the manor path. Fisk and Kathy followed a horse's length behind me, and their abrupt silence could have chilled a ghost. I, too, felt an icy shiver creep down the length of my spine, for 'tis not often I come face to face with the family I so gravely disappointed. I felt scolded, and I hadn't even seen my father yet.

The first person to hear the approaching clop of our horses' hooves was my older brother Justin, who much to my surprise, was not holding his position at the High Leige's court. Mayhap he used his vacation days to visit his family like the good and faithful son he was?

I pushed the thought from my mind, for I would not feel jealous when I knew in my heart, knight errantry was my chosen path. Still, my grimace deepened when at Justin's startled call, Benton followed out the door, shadowed by two servants, and finally Rupert. 'Tis not easy being the youngest brother, especially when returning after three years of exile. It clenches the intestines worse than stomach flu.

"Thank the gods, although of course, they had nothing to do with this," I heard Benton sigh as I dismounted Chant. He and Justin raced down the short steps of the house to both chastise and greet Kathy, rushing past me as if I did not exist. Rupert, however, stopped short on the path to pass me one of his scorning scowls of judgment, and then left to help my brothers. I did not know which reaction to my presence pained worse.

"Not exactly the warm welcome you expected?" Fisk asked. I whirled to find him watching my brothers while holding Chant and Tipple's reins between his crossed arms, a combination of distaste and wariness twisted in his expression.

"I didn't expect anything by coming here," I confessed gloomily. Dejected, I leaned closer to Fisk as my older brothers spun Kathy around and demanded to know what possible reason she could have had for running away from home. She appeared positively tongue-tied by the assault of questions, and at one point, looked desperately to Fisk and me for help. Neither of us answered her wordless pleas.

Soon, two grooms hurried out from the stables to help with our horses. One took up Marigold's reins, but after laying eyes on Fisk and me, the other stable hand hesitated to assist us. Rather, he stooped to rub True's belly, who had flopped over at the groom's feet with his moist tongue lolling.

"Uh, Mike?" Fisk coughed, tugging my shirt sleeve earnestly.

I was kindly explaining to the groom that True loves scratches behind his ears mayhap more than he likes his belly rubbed, when Fisk's yanking nearly ripped a seam in my shoulder. "What is it?" I snapped.

"Look up," my squire gulped.

I did, and what I saw sent my heart plummeting to my stomach. My mother and father overlooked the scene we had created from the porch steps, both wearing starkly different expressions. Father stood grimly stoic with his hands folded behind his back. His gray hair had turned white around the edges during my years of absence, but his tight-lipped scowl bore similar resemblance to the man I'd spent most of my life disagreeing with. Mother, on the other hand, allowed the slightest relief to escape her usual cold countenance. When she looked at me, her eyes glimmered, whether from tears or anger, I could not tell.

"Father. Mother," Kathy greeted, taking her chance to break away from our brothers' pestering. She rushed up the steps to embrace them, and then looked to Fisk and me. "Look who's here."

I noticed right away how Fisk obstructed all view of himself by hiding behind Tipple. I, however, inhaled deeply and curled my hands into nervous fists. I would not cower before Father's disapproving glower. I would remain stone-faced, for like a predator, Baron Seven Oaks pounces on any sign of weakness.

"Hello, Father," I said, shattering the solemn silence that fell over the manor after Kathy pointed me out.

"Michael," he acknowledged. 'Twas not a greeting, but cold recognition. He then glared sternly down at Kathy, as if looking at me too long caused him unendurable shame. "Do you have any idea how much worry you have caused us?" he demanded of my sister.

Kathy gaped. "It isn't like I disappeared without a trace! I wrote home constantly! I informed you of every town I visited!"

"And for what purpose? You deliberately disobeyed every command I ever gave you…"

When Father begins his scolding, he neither cares who is present nor what kind of reaction he receives. I should know, for he once assembled all of the noble families in the vicinity to witness my shame when he ordered the terms of my debt repayment in the high speech. To spare Kathy similar humiliation, I distracted myself by gazing down at True, who panted up at me in return. I had no idea what Fisk chose to amuse himself with, although I had a hunch he was concentrating on making himself appear very small.

"Mother, you know the reason for my leave! You never told Father?" Kathy demanded after minutes of lecture.

Mother opened her mouth to speak, but Father cut her off with a wave of his hand so fierce, I thought 'twould strike. "Yes, she told me, and I'll say it now, I have never felt so betrayed by the women in my house. I…"

Even the servants seemed to realize that this would take a while. They slid back into the house to carry on with their chores, but I noticed one maid crack the shutters to hear the rest of Father's lecture.

Finally, 'twas my turn to face Father's wrath. The moment his cold eyes flicked to mine, my back stiffened straight as a board, and I felt my teeth bite down painfully on the back of my lower lip. Blood ran down my throat like a poison I would rather swallow.

"Of course, none of this means ill if you have finally made your choice," said Father coldly. The way he left out my name made it seem as if I were a stranger to him and the rest of my family. From behind, I felt all three pairs of my brothers' eyes dig deep into my neck.

I swallowed, and beside me, Fisk shifted nervously from foot to foot.

"And what choice would that be, Sir?" Of course, I already knew.

Father cleared his throat. "Have you decided that you've finally had enough of your self-indulged foolishness? Your _knight errantry._ Will you take on your role as your elder brother's steward, and finally be forgiven by your family?"

Even Kathy looked horrified by such a prospect. Mother straightened hopefully. I felt no fear.

"I have not chosen to return, Father, but merely to bring Kathy home. My loyal squire, Fisk, and I have yet to rid the world of foul deeds. Until our task is finished, I will not concede to the terms of your forgiveness."

'Twas Mother who released the only pained whimper. My brothers snorted rudely, and I believe 'twas Justin who muttered something about a 'stubborn jackass' under his breath.

Father lifted his chin like a man with a vile stench under his nose—the stench, not for the first time, being me. The fair hairs on the back of my neck prickled, but I refused to back down. So long as we both lived, Father would never win our disagreement. We may both be stubborn men, but the price he ordered of me was too high: my life for his clemency. 'Twas not a fatherly request to demand of a son. At least not a loving one's…

"Then I want you off my land immediately. You are not welcome here."

"Father!" Kathy protested.

"'Tis the degree I have set, and I will not be defied again! Benton, see your sister to her room, now—"

"My dear, please," whispered Mother.

"No! I will not have an _unredeemed _man in my house."

"But he is your _son._"

"No son of mine bears the marks of those blind to the law. Absolutely not. Kathy, I said _inside—_"

Somehow, Kathy managed to evade all three of my brothers and scurry between Fisk and me. When Benton approached to take her arm, True unleashed his throaty, slightly unintimidating excuse for a growl. Nevertheless, my brother backed away.

I had never seen Father's eyes so full of fire. Being defied is not an act he takes lightly.

"Ah, Noble Sir? I think now would be a good time to make our escape," Fisk advised with yet another tug of my sleeve. When necessary, my squire is wonderfully adept at protecting his own skin.

"I don't need to escape," I informed loud enough for my father to hear. "I'll leave willingly. Kathy, 'tis time we say goodbye."

"What, no!" she exclaimed, but I held up my hand.

"You didn't really believe I would stay, did you?"

"Well, no, but I didn't think 'twould end like this." She threw a glare so fierce at Father, any lesser man would have cracked his resolve.

"But I did," I said softly, for 'twas the bitter truth. I drew her close in a tight hug, savoring the warmth of her embrace one last time. "'Tis going to be alright. 'Tis not goodbye forever." I knew just by the way her shoulders tensed that she had locked gazes with Fisk beside me.

My squire swallowed thickly. "And you know I'll continue to write you."

By this time, Kathy pulled away from me and eased into Fisk's open arms. For once in his life, Fisk did not cower under the unwanted attention of my family. He simply closed his eyes like a man caught under a spell; his contended smile lifted as he breathed in the sweet fragrance of Kathy's hair, even looped one of his fingers around a lock of her hair. Despite all injuries to his healing chest, he pulled her closer against him, as if such an action could express all their unspoken words.

All three of my brothers lifted their eyebrows suspiciously, and I didn't dare look at Father for fear of the rage I would find in his eyes.

'Twas Fisk who reluctantly pulled back to give Kathy's hands a prompting squeeze. Then, as if to confirm his goodbye, he handed Chant's reins over to me. "Are you ready, Michael?"

I looked one last time at my father to gauge his expression, but found he didn't even watch me. Mother was frantically haggling with him about something I could not comprehend. Could it be possible…?

While I watched my parents fight, Benton pushed past True and Fisk, and grabbed Kathy's arm. "'Twould be best of you to leave now, Michael, before Father gets the authorities involved."

"He wouldn't!" Fisk snarled indignantly.

"He would to prove his point—that as an unredeemed criminal, Michael is invisible not only in the eyes of the law, but to his own kin, as well," recited Justin with the proficiency of a member of the High Liege's court.

I noticed Rupert said nothing, but he had already made his case years ago: he did not want me as his steward so long as I complained against it. No doubt he considered me a spoiled child, but oh, how wrong he was. You cannot be spoiled without a family, and what was more, I did not consider following your dreams a result of selfishness.

I exhaled tiredly. "'Tis fine. Come along, Fisk. Let's go."

Mayhap my solemn resolve bristled Fisk, for he spent an extra few seconds sizing up my brothers by squaring his jaw and scaring them back with livid eyes. Almost like a body guard, he stood between all three of them and me, and after he was sure I'd distanced myself, spun, fuming, to mount Tipple.

I already had one boot in Chant's stirrups when a mangled cry shouted from the porch, "Michael, wait!"

'Twas my mother, and when I looked back to find her hurrying down the stairs in her wide skirts, my entire stomach seized with pain sharp enough to rival a horse's kick. With as much dignity as she could muster, she shoved past my brothers until she reached me. Then her soft hand perched on my elbow, giving me no choice but to drop back to the ground.

Our height nearly matched, with me standing a slight few inches taller. Time and years of worry had aged her fair skin with thin wrinkles, and the crow's feet around her eyes stood out the closer she brought her face to mine. A pang of guilt coursed through me for causing this woman the worry I saw so clearly gleaming in her eyes, but in all truth, my family had given me no choice. First, they had tried nailing me down to some office, and then in further spite, had me declared permanently unredeemed by tattooing my wrists. Of course, that last bit of punishment had been my choice, but nevertheless, they had shown no mercy when passing their judgment.

Lightly, my mother took my hands in hers. Pure curiosity drove her to push the cuff of my sleeve up just enough to see the broken circles, and her aggrieved wince was followed by her hand raising to cup my cheek.

Shock and unease filled me to the brim, for my mother rarely displays matronly affection. With tender strokes, she smoothed back the wisps of hair that had draped into my eyes and then tucked them behind my ear. Next, she did something even more surprising: she presented the same hand for me to kiss.

'Twould be a lie to say that I did not feel weak at the knees. By giving me her hand, she displayed acknowledgement to my kinship, as well as impartiality to Father's decision. I dared not look up at him nor my brothers when I slowly took her fingers in mine and lowered my lips to her cool skin.

The entire manor returned to eerie silence. Even True had ceased his panting. If not for Kathy, my legs would have given way with the anxiety of the moment. "Mother, I believe 'tis high time you officially meet Master Fisk, Michael's squire."

"Um, Kathy, that's okay…" Fisk assured quickly.

"Nonsense! Come down from Tipple, you coward. Mother, Fisk is my—"

"Kathy, I really must insist on you shutting your—"

"Pen pal!" I inserted with similar impromptu grace as my resourceful squire. I could tell just by Fisk's heavy sigh of relief that he never expected for me to save his skin with a stretched truth, but after three years of exposure (and the fact that I owed Fisk a lie for my mishap in Pierce's basement), Fisk's capable abilities may have rubbed off on me. Plus, I had three older brothers to protect him from. "Fisk is Kathy's pen pal. They've been in written correspondence ever since I was tattooed. I know 'twas bending the conditions set, but their writing has led to a blossoming relationship—"

Fisk rushed to my side and jabbed me in the ribs with his elbow so fast, I nearly doubled over. I suppose I'm no better at lying, after all.

It took at least three indignant shoves and two kicks to the shins to successfully stop Fisk's elbow from abusing me further, and 'twas then I finally noticed my entire family watching us as one watches a lover's quarrel. Even Kathy blushed for our sake.

"Enough of this!" Father commanded, now the only soul left on the porch steps. "Listen to me, Michael. Your mother insists that you and your _squire _stay for supper, but then I will have no choice but to force you to leave. Is that understood?"

"Say you'll agree," Mother whispered to me.

As much as I longed to deny him, I knew my duty. Resigned, I sighed, "If 'tis your will."

Father nodded curtly and then swept back into the house. The next events happened so fast, I felt locked in some rushing dream that did not make sense at all. Promptly, Mother took my arm and steered me toward the stairs, my brothers parted like waves for us to pass, all three staring at me with sneers of disdain, and lastly, I heard Kathy bickering lowly with Fisk about why he insisted on keeping their courtship a secret.

The last thing I heard before getting swallowed up into the house was Fisk's pitiful wail, "You Sevensons are going to be the death of me. Mark my words."


	17. Fisk 9

**Chapter Seventeen: Fisk**

As we sat down to supper, I began to sincerely wonder if I wouldn't have preferred being left to Pierce's mercy. This was ridiculous of course, for nothing could be worse than that monster's basement, but it was a fleeting thought when Kathy placed me between Michael and herself, and all of her brothers turned to glare at me. Michael stiffened at my side, and I wondered if he was having similar regrets.

The Baron sat at the head of the table with Justin on the other end. With the mistress and Michael's other two brothers seated across from us, I almost felt like Michael, Kathy, and I were on trial, or possibly caged in so we could not escape.

Still, the servants brought out platters of roasted meat and steamed vegetables rather than torture instruments, so perhaps I should have been thankful for my improvement in conditions. The Baron did not feel the need to flaunt his wealth in the décor of every room as Pierce had, but tapestries of family history hung on the walls, and regal rugs dressed the floor. Really though, the proper food alone made this meal more luxury than I had known in my lifetime.

Despite my efforts to convince myself that all would be fine, I doubt my complexion lost its pale hue, and my hands still shook beneath the table. Kathy noticed this and wrapped her fingers around mine in my lap, so her family and murderous brothers could not see. My muscles immediately began to relax against my will, and I managed to draw in a decent breath unburdened by my constricting ribcage.

"I hope your journey went well," Kathy's mother opened. Since this whole fiasco was her idea, she clearly thought it was her duty to dispel the awkward tension that had befallen us all.

"Oh yes!" Kathy assured her pleasantly. "Michael and Fisk are quite adept at finding respectable inns and making good time on the forest roads."

Though it was obvious that she was trying to talk us up in front of her family, I did appreciate her efforts. However, neither the Baron nor her brothers seemed to do the same.

"That's good to hear," the mistress said. However, even she did not look entirely convinced.

It took all my self-control not to flee the estate while I could. The stares and judgment of the Sevensons pressed down on me like a physical weight, and I could feel my torso burning nearly through my shirt. It was a foolish notion, and I knew it, but I swore they could all see the burns and whip marks that scarred my skin. I felt exposed before these nobles, and no matter how I tried, I would never measure up to their expectations. Especially not now, when my past had marked me permanently.

At last, the servants brought in the last dish, a basket of freshly-made rolls, and the Baron allowed us all to begin piling food on our plates, a good distraction from the obvious tension. Michael's brothers held no qualms in eating their weight in food, but I noticed Michael and I barely took more than a peasant's portion. Perhaps our nervous nausea kept us from reaching for more, or maybe we were just used to smaller amounts of food at this point.

While most everyone safely focused on their food, Benton picked at his roasted chicken with his fork, and his eyes lingered on Kathy and then me. I tried not to notice and picked apart my roll, but I could do nothing to prevent the older brother from inquiring, "Kathy, this is the person you have been writing to all this time?"

I did my best to shrink behind Michael, but this was difficult when we sat in separate chairs. Kathy tried to catch my eye, possibly for some advice on how to handle this question, but I had no better ideas than she. My hands were beginning to sweat, so I pulled them from Kathy's hold. She took hers back to her own lap, almost hurt, and guilt stabbed me through the heart.

"My squire keeps Kathy informed of my whereabouts and health," Michael put in, stealing a glance at Kathy and me. I hoped my cheeks did not burn as brightly as they felt.

"Kathy, I thought you said this boy no longer traveled with Michael," Mistress Sevenson questioned. I turned to her in horror, but I could not even be angry. Judging by the lady's open expression, she didn't mean the question maliciously. She was honestly asking for clarification of a past fact.

I glanced at Kathy in panic, but she looked just as horrified as I surely did, and I could tell she regretted ever telling her mother anything.

"We temporarily parted ways," Michael explained. "But 'tis in the past."

"Does this have something to do with why you suddenly ran away, Kathy?" Rupert questioned.

I quickly changed my mind. I would much rather have been back in Pierce's basement rather than face three brothers, a father, and a mother who would certainly not want their precious Gifted sister or daughter within a hundred miles of me, the dirty rogue who got himself caught up in some madman's scheme.

"Well…" Kathy trailed off. She frantically turned to Michael and me in panic, and I wanted nothing more than to help her, but nothing I could say would help any of our cases.

I waited for Michael to rescue us like the noble knight errant he was, but instead, he subtly nudged my side. I risked a glance his way, and his expression told me plenty: _Stop being a coward and prove that you're worthy of my sister._

I sighed and finally held my head high enough to see the family of my beloved and friend. Their eyes all focused on me, and the instinct to shy away from the attention of nobles reared strong in my heart, but I forced myself to remain still. If this was the deciding factor, then I supposed I would rather have some say in the decision instead of letting things happen around me. Wasn't that why I had fled Michael in the first place? To finally take control of my life?

If I didn't speak now, I would never have the right to even speak to Kathy again.

"I left Michael and got myself into some trouble," I said, enunciating each word slowly, but I didn't bother attempting a noble accent, not even the good one I had developed in Michael's company. This was a time for honesty despite my former belief that such a time never existed. "Michael and Kathy saved me and helped me realize that being alone is not strength… and that sometimes it's a good thing to let others help you with your choices… So I've chosen to be Michael's squire once again."

I wasn't sure what I was expecting, but there were no declarations of war or objects broken. The Baron huffed and went back to his food at the mention of the word 'squire,' clearly uninterested in such nonsense. Rupert did much the same, and Justin held his nose high in disapproval. Benton seemed a little more sympathetic, but he took pity on me and returned to his plate as well. Only Kathy's mother kept her eyes on me, and her expression of concern wasn't exactly heartening.

Still, my speech wasn't necessarily for them, and when I glanced out of the corners of my eyes, Michael beamed, and Kathy smiled softly. Despite the embarrassment and fear that still lingered from being put on the spot, I began to feel a bit better about my decision. Perhaps I was on the right path again after all.

Then the Baron stepped in with his heavy voice and weighted words.

"Whatever the reason be, 'twill not happen again, Kathy. You are Gifted, and soon you 'twill be married to a proper man nearby. This knight errantry business will be a thing of the past," he declared.

"Father, I have a choice in this matter!" Kathy exclaimed. Her dainty hands grasped the edge of the table with such force that I worried she'd turn it over in her passion.

Her mother tensed, and I wondered which side she would choose. I could see the war in her eyes. She wanted to keep the peace in her family, and that meant agreeing with the Baron. Still, she also desired every happiness for her daughter, and she could not have both. I recognized the internal battle from Anna's eyes, and my heart sunk. Anna had chosen to keep the peace in her family regardless of my happiness. I could not blame her just as I could not blame the mistress for what she would no doubt do.

"Yes, and your choice should be to do what is best," the Baron refuted.

"Father, I understand you are angry with me," Michael plead. "But please don't take it out on Kathy."

"This has nothing to do with you!" his father snapped. He slammed his fist on the table, and everyone startled. "None of this has anything to do with you!"

"Please he is a part of this family, too!" the mistress cried. The outburst surprised me, and I glanced up in wild hope. Perhaps this noble woman had more courage than I had initially suspected.

"Mother, it's okay," Michael said gently. His nobility would never cease to amaze me. Even as his father practically disowned him, he still worried over his mother's feelings. He may have been a fool, but he was a kind-hearted fool.

"No, it's not," she wailed.

"Father," Michael appealed. "I promise we will leave as soon as this supper is over, but for the time being, I ask that we may speak pleasantly… for Mother's sake."

The Baron looked as if he would argue once again, but then Benton spoke up as well. "Mayhap Michael is right. This supper will be all we have to endure, and we did agree," he pointed out.

I imagined it was the jab to the Baron's word of honor that prompted him to remain silent rather than love for his wife or son, but I was not in a position to argue. After my impromptu speech, the brothers took turns glaring at me over their plates, and I caught myself trying to hide behind Michael once again. However, I realized that after coming this far, it would be a shame to stumble back now.

I did my best to sit up a little straighter, and I reached over to take Kathy's hand in her lap… beneath the table of course. I could be brave, but I wasn't stupid. I held her hand the rest of the meal, and I tried not to blush when she sent me a gentle smile.

The conversation turned to horses, and while the tension remained, we all persevered.

…

Despite the Mistress Baron's teary eyes, I had no doubts that most of us breathed sighs of relief when supper ended, and our time of departure approached. The Sevenson family walked us to their front door, and once Michael said his farewells, they lingered on the porch while Kathy accompanied Michael and me down the steps. They apparently wanted to offer family support but only enough to fulfill the demand and nothing more.

"I'll fetch the horses from the stables while you two say your goodbyes," Michael offered, already moving in the direction. I caught his eyes right before he left, and I hoped he could read the thank you in my eyes. Judging by his smile and slight straightening of his posture, I imagined he did.

It was hardly a romantic scene for a farewell when Kathy's brooding family, all with an expression of varying disapproval, stood on the porch above us. Then again, I had read plenty of plays in the past with similar storylines, so perhaps it was quite romantic after all. I only hoped that our story would fare better than those of classic literature.

I turned to Kathy, and I took her hands in mine. My cheeks burned with both blush and anxiety, but Kathy smiled with such sincerity that I could forget the trials that surrounded us. "I'll continue to write," I promised.

"Of course you will," she agreed. "And you'll keep an eye on my brother and make sure the two of you come by to visit more often."

I cut my eyes in the direction of where one of her brothers seemed to be reaching for a knife. "I'm not sure your family would agree to that," I pointed out.

Carefree as ever, she shrugged, mischief sparkling in her eyes. "'Tis likely not, but I'm sure we can find a way around that," Kathy said.

I wasn't sure what she was applying, yet I knew exactly what she meant. I supposed I should have seen this coming with my reputation as a conman. Nevertheless, now was not the time. Kathy needed a few more months to decide what she wanted, and I still had plenty to learn about trust and nobility. Still, I thought the universe could allow me one moment of bliss.

I pulled her into a hug and inhaled her scent. Her body melted against mine, and she latched her arms around my waist but still minded my wounds. "Maybe someday," I whispered into her ear.

When she pulled back, tears sparkled in her eyes. "Okay," Kathy said. "You'll write."

"I'll write."

I was not a stranger to goodbyes. My mother, my father, my sisters, Lucy, Jack. How many people had I let go of in my lifetime? However, this was different. I was not leaving with the intent to never come back. I departed the Sevenson Manor with the promise that someday I would return to Kathy.

Perhaps it was this revelation that encouraged me, or perhaps it was the sight of Michael bringing the horses to us. Either way, I pulled Kathy to me once again, but this time, I placed my lips against hers, and I let the action seal our vow better than words ever could.

Once I pulled away, I mounted Tipple with record speed, and the three brothers and father never had a chance to find their weapons or call the sheriff. Michael, thank the gods as useless as they were, seemed to take the hint and swung onto Chant's back as well.

Kathy waved and shouted her love to us both.

Then Michael and I turned and galloped away from Seven Oaks.

…

I wasn't sure where we were going, but I let Michael lead the way, Tipple just a step behind him. I trusted that he wouldn't take us straight to trouble at the very least. The sun warmed the air, but the trees cast a generous amount of shade on the path, and the combination provided an almost pleasant atmosphere. While my thoughts lingered on Kathy, Michael also remained strangely quiet. I watched him cautiously and realized he was giving off the tells again. It was only a matter of time before he would break.

Barely a moment later, he turned in his saddle to face me. "Did you mean what you said?" he asked. "About choosing to be my squire." His eyes shone with the terror of a man with his soul and heart on the line.

I sighed. I should have known this would be the source of his distress.

"Michael, I have been taught to lie in order to survive since I was child. My first instincts are always to deceive rather than tell the truth," I told him. His face fell, and he started to turn away, but he hesitated when I continued, "However, you must be rubbing off on me, curse it. Yes, I told the truth."

The smile that lit up his face held the unabashed innocence and sincerity of a child, and I was thankful that the world hadn't quite stolen that from Michael yet. He held onto his nobility until the very end. Though I had seen him in some truly dark places in which I hardly recognized him, I believed in the Michael who spouted of good deeds and adventures.

Nonetheless, I still had plenty of issues with such spouting, but we could work through that.

Yes, perhaps we still had plenty to learn from each other yet.

The End

* * *

**A/N: Thanks to all who read and reviewed our story! Irony'sFriend and I, MagicWords1, had so much fun working with Hilari Bell's lovely characters. We are huge fans of the series, and the fourth book, _Thief's War _ended in such a way that prompted us to mend our feels in the only way we know how: writing the ending. :) We hope you enjoyed, and that hopefully we provided some comfort until _Scholar's Plot _releases! **


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